Merciful Endings

The cruelest thing about the Easter egg hunt is that the older the kids get, the faster it's over. I hid 39 eggs total and I told Luke that once he found 20 eggs he would have to stop to give Zach a chance. Exactly 90 seconds later, Luke was done for the day.

We spent the next 15 minutes coaxing Zach, giving him massive hints, and messing with him a little bit to get him to find the remaining eggs. There was one hidden under the chair that Dave was sitting on, so Dave pulled it out and balanced it at the end of his foot - which turned out to be high comedy once Zach actually found it.

In the end we only found 38 eggs. Did I count wrong? Will we find the 39th egg sometime in August? Will I find the 39th egg in my coat pocket when I reach for a Kleenex in the middle of church one day? These are the questions that haunt me every year.

So, twelve years ago Dave and I gathered all of our family and friends at a scenic perch overlooking the Pacific Ocean, made some important promises to each other, and then took everyone out to a nice Italian restaurant by the water. Twelve years later we decided to commemorate the occasion at another scenic perch overlooking the Pacific Ocean. We tried to avoid making any overt promises to our offspring. Then we took everyone out to a family-oriented Italian chain restaurant, where our kids, who had had way too much going on over the weekend, basically fell to pieces while Dave and I grimaced at each other over a glass of cheap Chianti. Ah, sweet memories. One of these years when the kids are older we will celebrate for real on a scenic perch overlooking the Adriatic Sea while eating actual Italian food. For now, we're just grateful for each other, our shared commitment to family life, and the relief of early bedtimes.