so since dutch’s t-ball practice was rained out, i figured, let’s dye our Easter eggs!! fun, right? well, not exactly. first of all, as soon as we walked through the door from spring break camp, he’s like, i’m ready to dye the eggs now!! hol’ up there, buddy. the eggs haven’t even been boiled yet!
i told him to just wait a minute and that we’d start soon. so then i go into the bathroom and here he comes knocking at the door (like always), “mom, i’ve got the eggs!!!”
what in the world? i told him to put them back and i’d be out in a minute to boil them. then i hear him fall…with the eggs.
i ask, “dutch, did you break the eggs?” dutch: i didn’t break them! “dutch, did you check the eggs?” dutch: i didn’t check them but i’m pretty sure they didn’t break.
two were cracked. not a big deal. i had bought two dozen. so i boil the eggs and prepare dinner at the same time and tell dutch that we have to eat dinner first. that’s when the break down happened. “why do we alwaysssssssss have to eat first when we come home? why can’t we do other things first?!! like watch tv.”
i save my whole speech about how there are starving children in the world because really, i just don’t even feel like giving a speech. instead i stew a little bit in my annoyed-ness ’cause see i have a bad habit of imagining how a particular activity will go and when it doesn’t go that way and things get all funky, well, mama ain’t too happy with that.
can you blame me though? dyeing eggs is supposed to be fun! not a whine-fest. so yeah, i get annoyed. i’m tired, i don’t want to dye eggs anymore. but i proceed anyway because i mean, really, i’m in too deep at this point to change the course of the evening.
i barely read the instructions, realize that i hadn’t bought what i thought i bought (like the little egg holder thingy, it was just an egg holder thingy…no dye, no nothing). and since i didn’t really read the directions the eggs don’t quite come out looking like the ones on the box, you know, with this whole marble look. instead they just look kinda…blah.
then dutch cracks two more eggs. dye is all over the table and instead of using the little hook thingy, he uses his fingers to get the eggs out and dye is just…well, everywhere. we fuss back and forth about when to take the eggs out of the egg holder dryer thingy. i think i care too much about egg dryness. i mean, really, do the eggs have to be thoroughly dry before we move them to the tupperware-ish bowl. probably not. so i wave my surrender flag, or rather the blue rag that i was using to sop up dye from the table. put the eggs wherever you wish, dear son.
but i have to give a strong no when dutch says, “okay, after all these eggs are dry, we’re going to put them in my room.”