Happy Easter, to those celebrating Easter

Bub made me the focus of his Easter art projects:

 Lemon meringue pie's tarty goodness:

 And Bub's sad booty from an Irvine church's afternoon Easter Egg hunt.

We missed our city's sponsored one because Bub took two hours to eat a gigantic bowl of oatmeal and cinnamon bun. Reverse psychology always works on him, even when it doesn't work in his favor ("Finish your breakfast quickly so that we can make it to the Easter Egg hunt!"). Hubby found out about this other, church-sponsored hunt that some of his coworkers were taking their kids to, in a nearby city, where they were touting 40,000 eggs. So when Princess went down, the boys high-tailed it.

Now, while they might have had 40,000 eggs, they also had a proportional number of kids, eager to scoop up the bounty. And unfortunately, Bub was in the back of the line. He didn't even get to the green until a crowd of kids had mowed through it, picking up booty along the way. He ended up with three eggs. "But I see seven eggs in his basket!" Yes, you sure do. Because Bubby was so sad, Hubby suggested to him that they find the half eggs that the other kids had "missed", then they could put them together and have a few more eggs. Unlike our city's hunt, where it's divided by every two years and they just throw candy onto a field, the one Hubby took Bubby to was ages 4-10. And some of the bigger kids had a strategy of breaking open the eggs, dropping the candy into the baskets and leaving the empty eggs on the field (and more room in their basket for candy). So yeah, four of those were scavenged after the fact. I think this was the saddest Easter Egg Hunt I'd ever heard of.