A Boy of Restraint

Early this morning, with much encouragement from my ever-adventurous husband, we decided to take our kids to have breakfast with the Easter Bunny. This is not something I would normally ever think to do, since it involves far too many rambunctious kids with their far too competitive parents--including me). But like I said I'm married to someone who isn't afraid of a challenge.

We got up earlier than we'd have liked, jumped on our beach cruisers (okay, my husband really doesn't own a beach cruiser and would most likely want me to disclose this.), and fought the first of the spring-breakers' pedestrian traffic. It was a lovely morning, cool breeze and 70-something. This would be heavenly if it weren't so darn expensive (but that's another post).

After making bunny ears, having cheeks painted (not mine), making a craft and a breakfast of pancakes, sausage, applesauce (I know, weird), OJ and Coffee, we met the Easter Rabbit (he/she was far too tall to be a "bunny"). All this was fine, nothing really special, certainly fun for the kids. Then it was time for the egg hunt (not really a hunt as they were "hidden" in plain sight). As a competive parent, I always try to give my kids a bit of an advantage--either egg placement, or maybe personal skill usage. I did this today with my son--who was the second oldest child participating, and therefore able to run faster than say my 3 year old daughter.

Now back to the "hunt". As you may imagine the eggs were collected in about one minute (seriously, I'm not exaggerating). As I watched my quick-footed son run to the far end of the field (all by himself), I thought to myself "YES! He's gonna get the most eggs--that's my boy!" He did grab a few eggs, but then he just started running around, dodging kids. It was as if he were a running back, yearning for a kick-off return touchdown! As any normal parent would have, I started yelling "Grab eggs! Grab eggs!". But by then the field had been cleared of the candy-filled treats.

I asked Graham why he hadn't gotten more eggs, he just told me in a very matter-of-fact way that 3 eggs were enough. I couldn't have been more proud. He used this hectic time not for fierce competition but to practice his offensive plays! Hey Pete Carroll, come scout my Kindergartener!