Easter morning. Young son enters parents’ bedroom.

“Good morning, love! I think I heard the Easter bunny hopping around last night and I think he left something for you somewhere in here!” This is me, as brightly as I can be at 7:30 AM.

“You mean ’she,’” corrects my 6 year old. Um, yeah, sure, I guess the Easter bunny could be female.

And so begins the game of “…warmer, warmer, no, now you’re cold…jeez, you’re freezing…wait…warming up, ooh, getting hotter, wow, you must be on fire !”

Junior returns from our bathroom holding up a basket of goodies that I hid in our bath tub. Gleefully, he goes through it, most impressed with the Spiderman pinwheel. After he’s perused the contents, he turns to me and says…

“O.k., now it’s time for the HUNT!”

Uh, what now?

“Oh. Um, see, that WAS the hunt. You found a whole basket of stuff, rather than the Easter bunny hiding everything individually.”

Silence. Then, with a quick about-face, sonny runs crying from the room.

Well.

Since we were going to my in-laws’ later and they always do a huge hunt there, I had thought that maybe at home we’d just keep it simple. That was obviously a dumb move on my part. Not to mention lazy, really. I guess I’ve just learned the real life lesson of “don’t put all your eggs in one basket”.

*Update for Monday: the dude hasn’t even LOOKED at his Easter stuff today. Figures.