First off, sorry about the last post. I tried to do it from my phone, and apparently, all of the photos are grainy and awful, and I can't seem to get it fixed. I will try to include those photos in a later post in higher res.
Now, onto Easter.
I love Easter. I love welcoming Spring, and celebrating the Resurrection, and hunting eggs, and . . . well, all of it. I love it for its Christian meaning, and for its Pagan roots. And I love that the two have blended into a day that can be enjoyed by all ages, for a variety of reasons.
Growing up, my favorite part of Easter was our egg hunt. Mom would stay up into the ungodly hours of the night preparing for it, I'm sure, but in my mind, it was totally worth it. Each year, she would hand us a single plastic egg with a clue inside. That clue told us where to find the next egg, and so on, until we found our Easter baskets, filled to brimming with chocolate and goodies. I loved the challenge of it, and the excitement of the treasure hunt. It was a tradition I always knew I'd pass on to our kids, someday. Especially when I found out that Patrick's family had an almost-identical tradition.
Since Miles was born, I've spent each Easter pining for the day that he'd be old enough to do the treasure hunt. I bemoaned the fact that it would be years before I could pass on this tradition.
Then, Saturday night, I had an epiphany. Miles can't read, yet, and written clues - even if read aloud - would probably be a bit too difficult. But the kid is awesome at pictures. Maybe if I took pictures of the hiding places. . .
So, I took a ton of pictures and printed them out . . .
Then, I cut them up and put them in the eggs. Each egg had a pictures of the hiding place of the next egg. I got a tad carried away and did 20 clues, ending with the Easter basket hiding in a cabinet. Patrick was skeptical that Miles would have the attention span for all 20, but I thought I could probably push him through the last 3-4 clues, and it would all work out.
We both underestimated our little treasure-hunter.
From the moment he opened the first egg, Miles was a bundle of smiles and concentration. Sometimes, he immediately went to the hiding spot and picked up the egg. Other times, he had to think for a few moments, puzzling out what that picture was portraying. In a matter of minutes, though, he had flown through all of the clues, and found his basket.
"Where the egg?" he asked. The chocolate bunny, the stickers - he didn't care too much about. He wanted more clues.
I was thrilled. Miles was thrilled. Patrick was beaming. It was a perfect start to a wonderful Easter. I can't wait for next year. :)