Friday, April 10, 2009

I'm Not Egg-Aggerating!

I don't ever remember
my mother letting us kids
dye Easter eggs.

Probably because she wasn't

What parent in their right mind
would gather up vinegar
and dye
and fresh boiled eggs
and glitter
and stickers
and crayons
and markers
and water-
and then their kids go wild?

Well, apparently,
I've personally had
some psychological problems
in the past,
because I used to dye eggs
with my kids
and my grand kids.

Martha Stewart makes it look
so beautifully simple.
The charming rosy-cheeked
children sit patiently by
while the eggs are divided
and the dye cups are filled.

Then they politely dip their eggs
and gently wait for them to dry-
adding a sweet hint of glitter
or a bunny sticker.
Then the adorable eggs are
displayed as a centerpiece
at the dinner table on Easter.

First of all,
my boiled eggs
usually come out of the pan
with globs of white brain-looking-matter
squeezing out of the cracks.

Out of two dozen boiled eggs,
I might get lucky and have
six or eight to give the kids.

Even then- they fight over
who gets what color of dye first-
and they joust angrily
with their wire dippers
until the other one gives up
and goes off to another dye cup
in defeat.

Eggs roll
and crack
and bust
and end up on the floor
and walls
and everywhere but
the allotted craft area.

There is glitter on the ceiling-
stickers on the TV,
and dye on the curtains.
I've utilized a double roll
of Bounty
and filled my Dirt Devil.

There are even jelly beans
stuck to the dog.

And after six rainbow colors
to choose from,
all the eggs turn out
a grayish-brown
with chunks of shell missing.

I can still see it now.
I shudder at the memory.

Insanity is not a pretty picture.

So, my lesson?
Plastic is the way to go.

Cheap, clean, and
very, very clever.

Happy Easter!