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Every year the Easter Bunny hides my grandchildren's eggs around my yard. She's a detailed bunny, very good at her job. (I'd be happy to give her an excellent reference, if she ever needed one.) The hunt includes "This Way" signs poked in the ground around my yard and each plastic, colored egg is filled with a piece of candy--and each egg is labeled with a name. (I have three grandchildren on the hunt for eggs. So there's no confusion/squabbles, the eggs are labeled with their names.) The kids start the hunt with an empty plastic bucket for the eggs, and the grand finale is finding their Easter Baskets filled with colored grass, jelly beans, a big chocolate bunny and toys.
Being the Easter Bunny's helper runs in our family. When I was growing up my mother worked at the local Five and Dime in our small town. Every year my mother was in the back room of the Dime Store, surrounded by Easter grass, baskets, toy shovels, chocolate bunnies and colored eggs. Mom always made up all of the premade baskets the store sold. I know it's a silly thing, but it's one of the few good, wonderful, whimsical memories I have about her. When you really think about it my mom was everybody's Easter Bunny. So I'm carrying on the tradition--after all I learned from the best.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
* This month's Penguin Classics book is PICNIC AT HANGING ROCK, by Joan Lindsay. Start reading now and enter the drawing for your chance to win a Penguin tote bag.