Family Daze
Easter egg hunt holds lessons for the parents
By Debbie Farmer
I was excited about taking my children to their first large Easter egg hunt at the local park. I couldn't wait to see them run through the field with their new baskets, stop to look below their knees, then bend over to pick something up.
I stood next to a mother who was coaching her child at the starting line. "When it's your turn, hurry and get as many eggs as you can," she said.
"I can't believe how competitive people can get over Easter eggs," I whispered to my husband. "I'm glad we're not raising our children like that."
"Me, too," my husband agreed. Then he pulled them into a huddle. "All right, here's the plan," he said. "When the whistle blows, I'll charge straight down the field, and pass all of the slower kids, while you run down the sidelines. I'll meet you at the fifty-yard line and you can hand off your basket to me. I'll empty the eggs into my bucket then we'll make a break for the end zone and refill as fast as we can." He gave them each a high five as they got into formation.
"Honey," I said. "What are you doing? It's the experience that's important, not how many eggs they find."
"Exactly!" he said.
When the whistle blew I stood back and held my breath as a group of eager children, and parents, surged forward searching for colored plastic eggs. I watched my son run down the side of the field. Then he put his basket on his head like a jaunty little cap and kept running until he reached the play structure on the other side of the park.
My 6-year-old daughter sauntered out to the field swinging her basket on her hip. She casually picked up a plastic egg, opened it, and popped the jellybeans into her mouth. Then she sat down on the grass.
I figured a little encouragement might help her. "Pick up another egg!" I cried. "Quickly, before they're all gone!"
She pulled up a dandelion, then blew on it to make a wish. I ran towards her, picked up an egg, and tossed it into her basket.
"Mom," she cried, "you're not supposed to help."
Just as I was reaching for another, I noticed the other parents were beginning to stare so I walked to a bench on the other side of the field and sat down.
When the hunt was finished my son ran towards me holding out his basket.
"Want to see what I found?"
"Sure."
I looked in and saw a feather, two pebbles, and a handful of tanbark.
"It's a moon rock, an eagle feather, and some tree dust," he said proudly.
Then my daughter reached into her basket and pulled out several dandelion stems. "And I found some wishing sticks!"
I smiled. Even though they didn't find many eggs, it was fun for them and a good learning experience for me. I decided that, as soon as we got home, I'd help them display their new treasures in the backyard, then give them a laundry basket full of Easter grass and let them loose in the living room.
Readers can contact Debbie Farmer at familydaze@home.com.
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Saratoga, California Since 1955
