Good Egg Hunting

The girls hunted for Easter eggs this morning at church.  There was a short program like last year, then the hunting began.  Since the girls are in different age groups, we split up hunting duties and each took care of one daughter—and one camera, lest the hunt go on, undocumented.

K. first.  She was accompanied by yours truly, who actually does exist.  Here’s evidence.  Sorry she didn’t really smile so much.

While we were waiting to get started, I reminded K. to be aggressive and go for the eggs just like we had in “the drills.”  The other parents nearby laughed at my assumed joke.  I was not entirely kidding.  K’s at a sensitive age where she realizes when she doesn’t get something she is supposed to; we were afraid she would get in there and the other, slightly more outgoing children would take all the eggs and there would be weeping and gnashing of teeth.She did fine.  I mean, she selected a few eggs (like in the picture below, she picked up that orange one but probably left its friends), But ended up with enough to make her happy.

So while this was happening, Dad took N. to the room with the eggs for nursery-aged kids.N. ended up with more eggs than K.  I’m not sure if Dad helped her put them in her basket, or if she got them herself.  In our practice runs earlier in the morning, she usually got more eggs than her big sister.

And then we attempted a picture with some of our friends, before N. decided she was done and made a run for the parking lot.  I have a picture of some of this group from last year.  It is incomplete again this year, as L. and S’s little brother isn’t in the picture.  We’ll keep trying.  I contemplated photo-editing him in, but I already had to switch one of the kid’s faces to get the three of them smiling—not telling which one!—and I don’t have fancy enough software to add a person.

Aaand…we’re done.