It's Easter weekend and we were looking for some eggstraspecial fun (sorry when else can you use the incredible edible egg puns?) A local church is having an “Egg Drop.” 100,000 eggs filled with candy that will be dropped from the sky by a helicopter – all for the taking!!! “This will be great” I say “ Let’s go!”
Groans from the 17 year old, a shrug from the 10 years old. The nostalgic visions I have are fading.
But then Rollercoaster chimes in ecstatically, “Just think,” she says, “Eggs falling form the sky- they will be bonking off the heads of little kidos.”
This is the criteria that finally sells the egg hunt to my 14 year old.
It’s not a Little- House- On -The-Prairie moment, but I’ll take it.
We are off, slightly running late because Happy Mouth couldn’t locate her makeup bag. Never mind the fact that she has been at the beach without a stitch of it on and has seen her entire high school all week long. We must impress the hordes of children we don’t even know.
When I was stopped on the causeway, ½ mile out from the entrance of the park to get in the “parking” line I should have stabbed myself then. As we wait , the helicopter swoops overhead and panic ensues through Forrest and her sidekick friend in fear that we will miss the egg drop.
So I have the older kids take the little ones out of my idling car (at$ 3.72 a gallon) and cross traffic to get to the park. 20 minutes later I am parked and searching for the kids in what must be a crowd of no less than 2,000 people. Plus as a bonus, I left my phone at home J ! Yea me!
Finally I find them and they are behind a barrier with tons of other people. The helicopter is swooping and dropping eggs all over but no one is allowed to retrieve them yet. Rollercoaster and I look at each other as our bubble of disillusionment burst. “Oh” we both say, “I see they aren’t dropping them “on” us.” L
Happy Mouth rolls her eyes, Forrest gives me the look of “well you lied again” that often accompanies anything that doesn’t go her way and is clearly out of my control.
“You seriously thought they were going to let us stand under the helicopter and catch them?” Happy Mouth says, full of love and rhetoric.
Did I mention that Rollercoaster and I are the only two blondes in the family? No matter.
“Are you ready to get some Easter eggs?” the announcer shouts. Screams from then crowd, mixed with crying form overtired infant and toddlers, who don’t even understand why they are there fill the humid air. “Alright, let’s get ready. Remember no shoving, pushing or stealing. Good luck with that, I think and then shoot my kids the look that clearly states “Screw up on the egg field and all the candy is mine”
The announcer continues “and as an extra special treat there are 50 eggs filled with tickets for X-boxes, I pads and tickets to Disney World!!!!” As if we weren’t a competitive lot enough, they are going to throw that in there!
“Now on the count of three and REMEMBER NO RUNNING!!” What? Is she high?
There are Dads stretching muscles they haven’t used in a year, nursing mothers tossing off their infants to the 3 year old and teenagers salivating and setting their phones to YouTube record.
“Link arms”, I tell Forrest and the sidekick.
“Two!" Someone has already left- shocking.
It sound like a stampede of elephants on Ecstasy. I am just trying to keep my eye on sidekick’s bright green bow (God bless her mama for that). I lose them in the seas of madness.
So I just people watch, an entertaining and education spectator sport.
There are kids being trampled, parents of a kid in a stroller filling the baskets at an alarming rate, and a few trying to balance a kid on a hip, smoke a cigarette and grab eggs. Wow! There are some skills in this crowd.
Two teenage boys walked past me with overflowing Wal-Mart bags and a 5 year old behind them cries because she only found 3 eggs. I am staring to see where the “drop” fantasy just wouldn’t work.
Finally Forrest and sidekick emerge. They are both smiling and admiring each other’s eggs, still linked together.
As we start for the car the announcer is now busy yelling out names of lost children “If you are missing John Carter, Hannah Willis, ..On and on she goes.
I check my blessed inventory:
Happy Mouth (walking and texting)- check
Rollercoaster (opening up eggs for candy)-check
Forrest and the sidekick (still linked) check, check
We are off to the car to wait in a 30 minute line to get out of the park and head home .
Did I mention the air conditioner is broken?
NO? Well it’s a great feature to have in the Deep South in April.
I calculated that we actually spent more time getting there than we did egg hunting. Not to complain, but there was not a lick of chocolate in those eggs, something about melting ? Whatever, like I can’t lick an egg clean.
Anyway I am greeted by Mr. Rogers in the driveway, he is being manly (totally rocking that wife beater) and working in the yard as an estrogen aversion. He asked how it all went and I recant the tale.
He smiles and says “Sounds like fun, glad I missed that one”