We were gifted a fun egg decorator this year that we immediately dubbed “The Egg Lathe. ” Today we pulled out traditional egg decorating supplies as well as The Egg Lathe and three hours later the kids decorated four dozen duck and chicken eggs and three goose eggs.
They turned out beautiful but unfortunately we are a family where zero people eat egg salad.
I hear you can make chocolate chip cookies with hard boiled eggs. How many bags of chocolate chips do you suppose we need to get through four dozen eggs?
I’m participating in the April Square hosted by The Life of B. Have you figured the theme out yet?
Today John observed that the only people who like black jelly beans are those who are so old they were alive before they invented good flavors for candy.
This seems to have the potential to be highly insulting to those of you who may like black jelly beans (you know, like my Dad), so I’m just going to leave that one as John’s observation.
My own observation concerns our cat, gypsy. Gypsy found herself a black jelly bean and loved it. She threw it on the floor and batted it, and chased it and carried it around. Me, being me, took her picture, looked down, checked the photo and made my own observation.
The only cats who like black jelly beans are those who have been taken over by an evil cat spirit.
I’m not sure how John’s theory is going to pan out, but I’ve got photographic evidence for mine.
The next morning as I was coming up from the basement a gooey, fuzzy, squishy, black gob stuck to the bottom of my foot and refused to budge. The horror of my fears of what it might have been was equal to the sense of relief I felt at discovering that the offending goo was “only” a black jelly bean.
Being younger than some, and lacking my own evil cat demon, I do believe it was the only time I have been truly happy to have discovered a black jelly bean.
Yesterday after dinner I came up with my most brilliant mothering move ever.
As I handed over Ivy’s chocolate Easter bunny as a reward for a clean plate I said: “Just so you know you should always let your mom eat your chocolate bunny’s ears or it’s bad luck.”
Ivy: “What do you mean bad luck?”
Me: “You’ll never find your Easter basket next year if you eat your own ears, you have to let your mom do it.”
Ivy headed back to the table chocolate bunny in hand looking thoughtful and unconvinced but moments later she was back, presenting me with her bunny so I could eat the ears for her. As she took her ear-less rabbit back to the table she explained the situation to Clara and I was gifted with another set of ears.
The Easter bunny had splurged, those were some damn fine chocolate ears.
I figure if I can keep this up for the next few years I’ll have them brainwashed before they start thinking about it too much and I’ll have three sets of chocolate ears to look forward to every year.
It could be pointed out that my girls are smart and may start questioning this “bad luck” thing. But, I would in turn point out that there are few depths that I wouldn’t sink to for some good chocolate and I have a direct line to the Easter Bunny – we can make a basket very hard to find.
Full of my great scheme (and chocolate) I told John what I had done and he called me all sorts of rotten names and threatened to out me to the kids.
Later a friend who had witnessed the brilliance of my bunny ear munching told me she was very impressed.
What do you think? Was this the most genius chocolate ear stealing scheme ever, or am I an evil chocaholic who knows no boundaries?