I Ate the Starbursts to Protect the Children

I'm ahead of the Easter game this year, having remembered to buy white eggs to be dyed. That's usually the step that trips me up each year. Either I forget the eggs or I only have brown, which I generally prefer to white because they seem more natural. It's not logical, I know, and it doesn't make coloring eggs with impatient kids any easier.

While we have the right eggs, this year there was a candy snafu. Again, ahead of the game, I bought two bags of Easter basket candy early, before the Target frenzy sets in, leaving only smashed Peeps and original flavored jelly beans behind. I hid the candy in my bedroom closet, which seems unhygienic, but it's the one safe, kid-free place...for now. (I used to love pillaging through my parents' closet.)

Soon after, Kevin came through and happened upon the candy in the closet. Realizing his wife was developing early onset Alzheimer's, he quietly moved the candy to the kitchen counter. Hours later I walked through and saw the candy out in the open, at kid-eye level. Clover had just gone through the kitchen a few times and the bags of pastel colored goodness would have been hard to miss. Each holiday she devises a plan to expose the real Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Halloween Witch, Hobo Pete, etc. and the candy would be perfect proof needed for her big "gotcha" moment. Easter morning is no time to question a long held fable, so fresh candy (different types - that will fool her!) was purchased. Bring it on, pint-sized Easter Bunny skeptics, I'm ready for you!