The first prank was the egg hunt that was less than extraordinary for my colorful collection. While the adults set out to prank each other with regular eggs, I accidentally fell victim to the joke and I was not laughing when it came time to count eggs and mine were covered with egg yolks. “I killed a baby egg,” I wailed -- as I somehow thought a colored egg was both different than the ones my mom used for scrambled eggs and the other colored hard boiled eggs in my basket.
My uncle’s solution to the sobs of a 4-year-old was simply to go into the kitchen, bring out a dozen of eggs (still in the container) and start pelting every adult within sight. The result? An egg war amongst the adults while the children sat with baskets of eggs and dropped jaws. We always had massive breakfasts during our visits with 30 or more loved ones, so the abundance of eggs for the weekend only enhanced the Battle of the Eggs 1990.
The kids abandoned their baskets for front row seats on the country home’s front porch, while our parents pelted each other with shattering shells and covered their opponents’ faces with yolks.
Not only was the event entertaining it was one of my fondest and first memories. I can still picture the yard, I can still picture my uncle’s face of mischief and I can still feel the emotion of pure excitement. The memory of kids screaming, jumping up and down and cheering for their parent to get hit with an egg was the portrait of family in action.
No matter how you celebrate Easter, I hope you have a happy one with a memory you won’t forget.
[friday] editor/ Withdrawing from my memory bank