Easter Eggs

For the next few minutes, please humor me and pretend that Easter was yesterday, okay? Imagine the spring weather, bright sunshine, Easter Sunday service, an Easter egg hunt. And Dena.

This year, Dena (my sister-in-law) hosted our family Easter lunch/egg hunt. And since it was at her house, she invited her family (including her creepy father).

The night before Easter, Dena frantically called and told me to bring a dozen eggs to dye. "Whatever you dye, you take home," she said. Three times. She also insisted that the eggs be raw "I'll boil them because they dye better when they are warm." And I obeyed (mostly because I didn't want to run to the store at 9:30pm and then boil the eggs).

When it was time to dye the eggs, Dena calls the (ten!) kids to the table and barks at the parents "if you don't watch your kid, no one will." Fair enough (but of course she has to say it in her bitchy Dena-way). She puts out a dozen eggs and the (ten!) kids dig in. Dena's niece grabs an egg and immediately drops it. Her mother yells at her for cracking the egg and the little girl cries because "the egg is hot!" In the meantime, Nicholas does the same, as does Luke (Dena's son, who isn't being watched by anyone and dropped his egg in the dye and now has red dye all over his Sunday-best white pants because no one had the foresight to change him out of his white pants before coloring eggs. (Okay, I did. But I was busy watching my kids because no one else would.)).

I reach over and touch the eggs and they are hot. (Not warm. HOT.) Dumb Dena just boiled the eggs and didn't let them cool before giving them to (ten!) kids under the age of six!

"Dena! Can you bring more eggs?" I call into the house. Dena comes out of the house with a WTF look on her face. I say, "We need more eggs. A couple were dropped and the kids have pretty much dyed all the eggs you brought out." "We don't have any more eggs," she says slowly (you know, because I'm the fucktard).

Apparently Dena (the brilliant woman that she is *snort*) didn't ask anyone else to bring eggs so there was only a dozen (that's 12, for you non-math majors) eggs. For 10 kids.

I won't get into the crying that happened when the (ten!) kids realized there were no more eggs. And I won't get into the yelling that happened when Dena discovered Luke's stained white pants. And I won't get into the fact that I still ended up taking home a dozen, cracked, dyed eggs.

Did I mention that I don't even like eggs? (Now, I hate eggs even more.)

(You can now stop pretending it's Easter and realize that tomorrow is the 4th of July. Happy 4th, everyone! Go forth and enjoy your right to a Dena-free weekend!)