Our VERY traditional, Easter Sunday celebration....also known as an activity the American Academy of Pediatrics would frown upon.

Sure, we're just like all the other "normal" families around the world, who celebrate Easter with brightly colored hard-boiled eggs. And like so many others......we, again, in an attempt to seem "normal", even gather all the brightly colored eggs and hide them for the children. Which is commonly known as an "Easter Egg Hunt". Maybe you've participated in one before.

• See, here's a little cutie, new to the family this year, finding an egg on his first ever Easter Sunday egg hunt.

It all seems harmless enough. And it is, essentially, right up until all 228 hard-boiled, brightly colored Easter eggs have been found by all the lovely children. Which by the way, just a little FYI, it takes substantially longer to hide 228 eggs than it does to find them.



Back to the issue at hand......the egg hunt is normal. It's our other family tradition that comes so heavily scrutinized by outsiders. Oh, who am I kidding, it's been condemned by even straight up family members. Nonetheless, traditions stand. And our VERY traditional, albeit non-traditional amongst the rest of Easter goers on Resurrection Sunday, is the Easter Egg Battle. You know, where you throw the Easter eggs at all your cousins, and Uncles, and great Aunts twice removed, and any friends that may happen to have been dragged along for the family luncheon. What? This is not something you do on Easter? Hmmm. Imagine that. So common to us, and so foreign to others. Maybe you are the weird ones? Ever thought of it that way? Me, either.




We do have rules, you know, concerning the egg fight. Pregnant women, those over 80, people with heart conditons and small babies (if the mother chooses) really need to remove themselves from the battle arena. And any others that may not want to particpate. (Who wouldn't want to participate?---oh, there's a bunch of them.) Well, if that's the case, then you must get out of the yard area and sit yourself up on the porch, or go inside altogether, if you don't trust others to obey the rules.




Here's another new little man this Easter. He's already found his basket full of eggs, and heard the announcement that it was almost time for the Egg Battle to begin. Well, he heard the ruckus and didn't want to miss out on all the fun, so he's chasing after his basket of eggs as fast as he can. But to no avail.....his momma took him up to the porch to the safety zone.

• I think this is some sort of a pre egg fight warm up that Scot is exhibiting for us. It's similar to the chicken dance that Elmo does. Although, unlike Scot, we will never know if Elmo wears Hanes or not.

• Look, there's a seasoned veteran of the egg battle. Do you know how I can tell? No, you can't possibly know, because you are still in pure disbelief over this whole post. Doubting that such a tradition really exists. Well, I know because of his clever postioning, in the ditch, near the road. The children are absolutely not permitted to get close to the road. See, we have rules and boundaries. I'm not saying all the adults always follow them, but they have been established.

• Oh, look, the egg fight is in full force. People are running all over the place and the egg yolk is flying! Oh, my. Do you know who that is that's getting picked on? Recognize her? She's a doctor. Yep, been to med-school and everything. Even has a fancy diploma hanging in her office that says she's the real deal. I think they even let her teach other kids to be doctors. That's a scary thought. She's the ring leader in this whole egg-fight battle. Well, her and my mother. What a pair. She's our cousin.....and my children's PEDIATRICIAN. I'm thinking the AAP has no idea how she celebrates the day the tomb was found empty. I'm also thinking we shouldn't tell them either.

• Here's Scot again....after he got all loosened up from the chicken dance, he's showing us some of his Keanu Reeves, Matrix skills. Basically, if you ask me, it's just another adult picking on a little kid.

• See, look. The proof is in the pictures. The children look harmless to me.

• Or, maybe not. Kids, they can be deceiving at times. But really, what's a little yolk in the face, between family?

• Another "adult" picking on a kid.....and she's even a little girl. What a shame. It is Jack. Now, everybody knows your name.

• Now, this, this right here, it looks to me like there's going to be a little trouble.

• I hate to say I told you so, but, I told you so.

• Wait just a cotton-picking minute. All the eggs have been thrown, all the egg pieces leftover after the first few passes, have also been thrown. No more solid yolks have been found.....all is beginning to settle. And what is that "doctor" doing over there with those young 'uns?

• Aha. Water balloons......oh. what. fun. Now, the eggs, well, unless someone actually just rubs it in real good, up close and personal, you can shake most of the yolk and such off. Because it's still kind of dry and crumbly. But she had to go and involve a liquid, as usual. Last year it was a 2-liter coke. At least this time it was only water. However, now we can have hard-boiled egg yolk mixed with water, on our clothes and in our hair. Divine. Her knowledge....it knows no bounds. I'd like to see who tutored her through med-school. They earned every penny, I guarantee you that.
• Now, here's a fine lesson, kids. Always remember, no matter how smart you think you are.....there's always someone still a clever step ahead. Uncle George had saved some snow (it only snowed once here in Alabama, but he managed to salvage a small bucket full in the freezer for several weeks, waiting for just an occasion like this.) He informed his sister (my mother) of it's whereabouts. And she promptly marched down the steps, off the porch and into the battle arena.....with two fists full of 2 month old, slushy snow. How's that for a little Easter Blessing?

• The good doctor again. From afar, and I mean really afar, people might have mistaken this for REALLY LARGE DANDER. But eventually they will be close enough to get a whiff. For all I know, she could have went into the clinic or made hospital rounds this morning looking like this. I mean, unless she took a bath when she returned home, yesterday. Which I'm sure she did. Remember, she has a degree from medical school. Even so, I bet she still stinks. Anybody for egg salad?

• Just to prove a point that we are your average American family......the kids played ball right out in the egg graveyard. See, we are normal. Most of the time.

• I had to include this. We had a feast spread on the tables on the porch. Everything from Uncle George's fried fish and hushpuppies, Karisa's grape salad, my corn pudding, Mom's potato salad and black-eyed peas, ham, mac and cheese, etc.etc.etc.......nothing much suited this little guy. Which is fine. Picky eaters are welcome in the family all the same. However, the problem arose when, 2 hours later, (after egg hunting, egg fighting, water balloning and baseball playing) --he was hungry and still asking the lady who brought him to please unlock the car so he could get his sandwich. Guess who the lady was? Yep, the doctor. The AAP probably wouldn't look so highly on that either. But again, mums the word from me.

I do think this picture is too cute of him having his "dinner on the grounds". Do y'all remember those? Oh, I loved having them at my PawPaw's church. This brings back memories. Just like old times. Except of course, when I was a kid, nobody kept my sandwich locked in a car for hours on end.

• Look, I think this picture pretty much sums it all up. She's hitting herself in the head with an egg. No one is throwing anything at her. It's a self-induced egg battle of her own. And again, I have entrusted her to care for my children. What was I thinking? :) Oh, now I remember......she's a great gal, and I love her so much. And really, when you get past all this dysfunctional stuff, she's highly intelligent. Sort of.

• Well, that's it for Easter Egg Battle '09. I know you are sad....but there's always next year. And you can always come join us, if you're brave enough. And if you want to go home smelling like rotten eggs. Hope you don't live too far. Could be a long ride.

This last photo I include only for nostalgia. Because someday, I hope it doesn't come soon, this porch might not be around. My grandkids may never get to sit a spell on that swing and listen to all the stories that it could tell. But, rest assured, they will know the rules of the egg fight.