I love holidays especially if I can bust out a banner.
If your kids decorated eggs and they are pinworthy, it is a lie. I set up the dye, put Zoe in charge, and pour a glass of Grigio. And pretend I don’t hear the kids fight over a weird eye dropper thing that came with the tie dye decorator set.
FYI: If you are going to use the rope swing, unhook your insulin pump or you might accidentally yank out the entire thing.
After dinner, it was time for the 3rd Annual Egg Baseball game.
Not really so much a game as it is mostly let’s smack the crap out of the eggs.
Traditions, we have them.
1. Go for a hike, perpetually minding your own buisness.
2. Notice something lying about twelve feet off of the trail that looks like it is of the human skeletal variety.
3. Debate internally about whether you need to be involved and/or if the Witness Protection Program takes requests (I’m thinking somewhere tropical) while you work up the courage for like five minutes to walk up to said discovery.
4. Die forty times because the foot bone is decidedly not connected to the leg bone.
5. Realize that shit is straight up plastic and breathe a sigh of relief that you did not hike all up on a legit crime scene.