Hard-boiled eggs and Easter presents

I don’t like plastic Easter eggs. I’m from the old school. I realize there are food safety requirements that make plastic eggs more feasible for community hunts. I mean, no one wants to see a child eat a half-boiled egg that has sat in the sun for two or three hours. Let me re-phrase that. No one wants to see a child 30 minutes AFTER he has eaten the half-boiled egg in question.
When I was growing up, we always enjoyed a fun egg hunt at church. Every year there would be the special golden egg that had two quarters in it. Of course, my brother and I never found the golden egg. There was always a skinny over-achieving child who would climb 10 feet up a Sycamore tree just to retrieve the prized possession. Chubby children like us were destined to be happy with the smashed hard-boiled eggs that lay next to the church steps.
When I became a grown-up and had children of my own, we enjoyed similar simple traditions. You can imagine my shock when a friend asked one year, “What are you getting your kids for Easter?”
“What do you mean what am I getting them? I’m getting them a cheap pack of PAAS egg dye and a bottle of vinegar.”
“You don’t buy them ANYTHING for Easter?”
That’s when it hit me. I have horrible parents. My parents were supposed to have bought Easter presents for me all those years. They didn’t give me live baby chickens to dismember. No games or DVDs. The nerve of those two. They led me to believe Easter was a time for dying boiled eggs with cheap PAAS egg dye and celebrating the resurrection of Christ.
Some of you were raised with the “Easter gift” concept. I’ve got no problem with that. My only caution is that you be very careful about choosing gifts for preschoolers on your list.
Giving precious little live baby chicks as an Easter present is perfectly fine ... as long as you’re giving them to someone who wants to be a chicken farmer. Not only should the recipient want to be a chicken farmer, but they should also possess the necessary skill and equipment to make it happen. In contrast, please don’t give a small live chick to a 4-year-old city dweller. Ask yourself this question, “Should a child who frequently rips arms and legs from Barbie dolls and GI Joes be given a live baby chick?” You’re welcome.
Does a fuzzy-wuzzy little bunny sound like the perfect gift for your 3-year-old grandson? Think again. Put yourself in the bunny’s paws for a moment. “Should a child who blows chocolate milk out of his nose ... be in charge of the destiny of a living, breathing creature? I think not.
Some of you over-achieving parents will be tempted to give your children live baby animals AND piles of candy. Before you rush out to begin your shopping, stop and picture this scene for a moment. It’s 3 p.m. on Sunday afternoon. Your precious 3-year old boy, in need of a nap, tanked up on marshmallow bunnies and Cadbury eggs, is carrying a live baby chick onto the swing set in the back yard while wearing white shorts and a bow tie. Precisely my point.
Regardless of the gifts you give or don’t give, I hope each reader takes a moment to ponder the significance of the season. It’s my favorite holiday of the year. Christ has risen from the dead. Hands down, the greatest gift of all.
For more information about Lisa Smartt, visit her Web site lisasmartt.com.
Published in The Messenger 3.24.10

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