To kill an easter egg


Yesterday we had a few friends over to dye easter eggs. I’d spontaneously invited everyone before I realized I hadn’t dyed eggs since I was 12? Back then I’d followed instructions to poke a small hole at the top and bottom of the egg and then blow air into the top hole until all of the yolk and whites came out the bottom. It had never dawned on me that some people actually eat easter eggs that aren’t made of chocolate?!
So it was a good thing that I Pinterested this activity the day before and learned about food coloring dye and hard boiled eggs!

We had fun and I got put in my place – I feel terribly sorry for the poor eggs that had to suffer my frivolous attempts at an extreme make-over… extreme do-over.

So ugly in fact that after our guests left I let my baby girl take out her toddler aggressions (which of late are many) on them in the hallway. Sorry not sorry.


I actually couldn’t find ANY white chicken eggs here – what’s up Ireland?? – so these are duck eggs. So big and pretty!


There they are. My four ugly creations are riding shotgun. I have no further comments.




Okay, she mainly hugged and studied them for the first ten minutes. But in the end she did try putting her full weight on them and they gave such a satisfying crunch! Good girl.


Ah, these bangs. My daughter is starting to look like a 14 year old boy. Or Justin Bieber, like Marcus said.


Happy Easter!!