Dirty Rockin’ Egg

The last time that my wife and I were on time to any kind of appointment was almost 5 years ago, before we had kids. It doesn’t seem to matter how hard we try or how early we attempt to leave the house, something always happens to slow us down. Someone needs a snack before we leave and then gets it all over himself, someone needs a chocolate milk before we leave and then gets it all over himself, someone needs to go pee before we leave and then gets it all over himself... you get the picture. That ‘someone’ is David or Graham, and occasionally me.

Easter Sunday was no different. We were a few minutes behind our scheduled departure time for the short drive to my In-Laws’ house where we planned to hunt Easter Eggs. In an attempt to get the boys to hurry up I used the old turn-it-into-a-competition trick and told them that “The last one in the car is a dirty rotten egg!” David and Graham bolted for the door. Now, I had intended that this would be a competition for the two of them, but they decided that it was for all four of us, which is totally unfair because I have to buckle Graham into his seat and that made me the last one in the car.
“You’re a dirty rockin’ egg, Dad!” yelled Graham. Somehow it didn’t seem quite so bad to be the dirty rockin’ egg. Candis thought that Graham was mispronouncing ‘rotten’ but I’m convinced that he really does think that I’m rockin’.

My Father-In-Law and I were put in charge of hiding the eggs in the expansive back yard, which turned out to be a mistake because neither of us counted the number of eggs that we’d hidden or remembered exactly where they all were. Apparently these are things that are important, because it’s difficult to ensure that you’ve retrieved all the eggs without knowing those two facts. I readied myself to play the role of referee and hoped that I wouldn’t have to call any Technical Fouls while David and Graham each took a basket and commenced Operation Eggs Traction. (Extraction - get it? I came up with that one all by myself!) *PATS SELF ON BACK* The boys would routinely spot an egg on the far side of the yard and sprint past 5 or 6 easily visible eggs to get to it. Aside from the fact that these two kids apparently couldn’t find an egg if it was screaming their name, the game went smoothly. They played fair and even showed each other where stashes of eggs were hidden so that they could both go grab some. Candis thought that this was nice, well-mannered behavior, while I made a mental note that they lacked the competitive spirit and killer-instinct to be champions and quietly devised ways to instill this in them.

After they had found all of the eggs (I think) David and Graham decided that they wanted to hide the eggs for the adults to find. This was when the underhanded tactics and cheating began, and unfortunately there was no one to play referee. Contestants were spilling other’s baskets to slow them down, they were stealing eggs from one another’s baskets, there were even rumors of one team adding eggs to the game to increase their final count. It was despicable. It was competitive spirit and killer-instinct. It was men against women and the fairer sex did not fair so well despite all their Machiavellian machinations.

It is ironic that my 3 and 4 year old boys were better behaved than the adults. David and Graham managed to share, to be polite and to genuinely be well behaved. This tells me that we haven’t screwed them up yet, but don’t worry our actions later that day assure me that it’s only a matter of time before we do.