Just for the record, I don’t like Peeps. (In case you’ve missed them, Peeps are those little sugar coated marshmallow pink or yellow or purple candy chicks (or bunnies) that line the Easter candy aisle shelves this time of year.) I think I used to like them, but that’s way too much sugar in one shot these days, even for my sweet tooth.
We shopped for Easter baskets (for the contents, not the baskets) for nearly grown boys this year. Not as much fun as it used to be (not as challenging or stressful, either, I might add–no more need to find little toys that delight without being “junk”), and I do miss filling an Easter basket (and a Christmas stocking) for a little girl, since my own little girl is grown up. (But there is always the Granddaughter–and I must confess that I had an Easter “bag” filled and ready for her a month ago already!)
When I was in college, the pastor of the church I attended had three little boys. One year, several of us students were invited to Easter dinner at the parsonage. I was then introduced to a unique tradition. In that home–no Easter Bunny, no sir. It was the Easter Pig. And, no baskets. The Easter Pig left treats for Rick, Andy, and Adam in colorful cowboy hats. Now, how cool is that? Also, this family, unlike the one in which I grew up, saved Easter basket opening for after church. (I’m never sure how my mom and dad thought the five of us would get anything out of Easter morning worship when we’d just spent the previous couple of hours gorging on chocolate eggs and jelly beans.) That latter bit from my pastor’s family is a tradition we adopted when our own kids came along–Easter baskets have always been a late afternoon or evening activity for our kids–usually after we got home from Easter at Aunt Beth’s or Grandma’s.
I never participated in an organized Easter egg hunt as a child, also just for the record.
My favorite things to get in my Easter basket as a child were 1) new white gloves and lace-trimmed socks to wear with my Easter outfit (maybe that’s why we got to open our Easter baskets before church–my mom usually put our Easter outfit accessories in them) and 2) a kite. One of my favorite Easter Sunday memories is of my brothers and sisters and me out behind our house flying kites with our dad. One time, it seemed like we flew them so far, they were aloft over the barn of the farm we owned “around the corner” from where we lived–it seems like that kite was attached to the endless ball of string and it felt like great power to be in control of such a high-flying, far-flying bit of paper and wood. (That was before all the kites you bought were plastic or nylon–you could buy a paper kite for 10 cents.)
Not sure why I decided to wax nostalgic in this little post–maybe it was the sight of all that chocolate and all those jelly beans on the Easter aisle while we were out shopping!
Happy Easter!
Through Changing Eyes 