There are two school houses on the South side of our mountains. They are about 7 miles apart as the crow flies but 20 or 25 on the pavement. One school has 12 kids and the other 5. All grades are taught together in each building, a sixth grader sitting next to a kindergartner.
Every year the little general store puts on a Easter Egg hunt. The parents of the children boil and dye a dozen eggs to bring to school to be gathered for the great event. Families representing the children of the schools, and neighbors from the Reservation come. Our town gets pretty happy. Yesterday the sky was clear for the Hunt.
My boys are shy around so many people- almost 50 of them. The breeze flew though their new buzz hair cuts as the two of them waited by my side. Several people could not resist stroking my three year old's head. Travis smiled back at them.
In the small park three areas are roped off, the level of difficulty in locating eggs mounting for each age group. Pre-schoolers go first.
I thought I'd give Travis some advice. Last year he'd been afraid to leave my side. This year would be different. We'd score some eggs.
"Now, Travis," I told him seriously, "your area is between the wooden fence and the pink ribbon. It goes all the way up that hill, See? So all this area is yours, and you can go to the top of the hill" He nodded his head. He was nervous. I wasn't sure he'd start.
"ON YOUR MARK, GET SET, GO!" Shouted the Storeowner. Off went Travis, among the first, though not the fastest. Immediately the kids were grabbing eggs off the grass. Not Travis. He was still running. He didn't stop until he made it to the top of the hill, where he stood quietly.
My directions may have been too literal.
The Storekeep's daughter was dressed in a white sheet with ears, some make up, and a little fluffy tail. This was the Easter Bunny. The Easter Bunny did not speak. But the Easter Bunny saw the predicament of Travis and with coaxes of the paw and gestures conveyed to him the desirability of picking up eggs. The Great Bunny never left his side, but continued until the end, when the last egg was found, including the GOLDEN EGG. Some parents were calling out directions to their children, spotting the eggs for them. Being a Little League parent starts young, I thought.
The winner of the Golden Egg recieved a stuffed animal. It may have been a stuffed bunny. The children kept the hard boiled eggs and turned in the plastic eggs for hard cash; the amount written on each egg. Travis made a buck fifty.
My six year old did not fare as well as his little brother. He too was shy, and at the starting yell followed after the herd of children. That wasn't too smart. I'd have to tell him what happens to people following the herd, though he'd probably figure it out himself. He made a buck.
After the events, the children mobbed into the store to buy candy and toys with their money. Both my sons got a giant candy bar and a chocolate egg. The younger trusting me with his money, the older not quite aware I chipped in the difference for his. The older one saves his money, and is rich by six year old boy standards. He earns most of it doing chores. He is frugal, his candybar still intact as I write this, the younger's gone in 60 seconds.
All that night and next day Travis talked of how nice the Easter Bunny was. He was a good rabbit. He was a white rabbit. He didn't speak, because bunnies can't talk.
Happy Easter
munk
Every year the little general store puts on a Easter Egg hunt. The parents of the children boil and dye a dozen eggs to bring to school to be gathered for the great event. Families representing the children of the schools, and neighbors from the Reservation come. Our town gets pretty happy. Yesterday the sky was clear for the Hunt.
My boys are shy around so many people- almost 50 of them. The breeze flew though their new buzz hair cuts as the two of them waited by my side. Several people could not resist stroking my three year old's head. Travis smiled back at them.
In the small park three areas are roped off, the level of difficulty in locating eggs mounting for each age group. Pre-schoolers go first.
I thought I'd give Travis some advice. Last year he'd been afraid to leave my side. This year would be different. We'd score some eggs.
"Now, Travis," I told him seriously, "your area is between the wooden fence and the pink ribbon. It goes all the way up that hill, See? So all this area is yours, and you can go to the top of the hill" He nodded his head. He was nervous. I wasn't sure he'd start.
"ON YOUR MARK, GET SET, GO!" Shouted the Storeowner. Off went Travis, among the first, though not the fastest. Immediately the kids were grabbing eggs off the grass. Not Travis. He was still running. He didn't stop until he made it to the top of the hill, where he stood quietly.
My directions may have been too literal.
The Storekeep's daughter was dressed in a white sheet with ears, some make up, and a little fluffy tail. This was the Easter Bunny. The Easter Bunny did not speak. But the Easter Bunny saw the predicament of Travis and with coaxes of the paw and gestures conveyed to him the desirability of picking up eggs. The Great Bunny never left his side, but continued until the end, when the last egg was found, including the GOLDEN EGG. Some parents were calling out directions to their children, spotting the eggs for them. Being a Little League parent starts young, I thought.
The winner of the Golden Egg recieved a stuffed animal. It may have been a stuffed bunny. The children kept the hard boiled eggs and turned in the plastic eggs for hard cash; the amount written on each egg. Travis made a buck fifty.
My six year old did not fare as well as his little brother. He too was shy, and at the starting yell followed after the herd of children. That wasn't too smart. I'd have to tell him what happens to people following the herd, though he'd probably figure it out himself. He made a buck.
After the events, the children mobbed into the store to buy candy and toys with their money. Both my sons got a giant candy bar and a chocolate egg. The younger trusting me with his money, the older not quite aware I chipped in the difference for his. The older one saves his money, and is rich by six year old boy standards. He earns most of it doing chores. He is frugal, his candybar still intact as I write this, the younger's gone in 60 seconds.
All that night and next day Travis talked of how nice the Easter Bunny was. He was a good rabbit. He was a white rabbit. He didn't speak, because bunnies can't talk.
Happy Easter
munk
)