Of Egg Hunting

We attended our church's annual egg hunt this afternoon.  I was nervous for the fact that the hunt was scheduled in the middle of prime nap-time for our kids.  The question of how their moods would look was anyone's guess.  In preparation, Emmett-man laid down a little early, making it tough to leave on time.  Have you ever tried to wake a peacefully-snoring baby?  It's nearly impossible - not for their lack of responsiveness but because it takes a lot of courage on the heart of the waker.  Who wants to be the horrible one to disrupt such a beautiful rest?

While his dreary eyes upon our arrival at church definitely showed his recent awakening, he did fairly well seated on the grass in the middle of the hullabaloo, decked out in his "Baby's First Easter" onesie, fingering the plastic eggs handed to him by Mommy and Daddy while his big sister eagerly filled her bucket between stopping to greet her friend, Gavin, and proudly showing off her loot.

But the greatest moment was the train ride. 

After all five of us (Aunt Dia, too, of course) stuffed ourselves into the tiny train car, pulled by the small tractor-turned-engine, we were off, the breeze blowing Little Emmett's hair.  And with no prompting on the part of Mom and Dad, our little guy, recognizing, even through his still-groggy eyes, the fact that we were racing (at the speed of tractor) past a sea of on-lookers (who, for the most part were not doing much on-looking), decided to put to work his newest-acquired skill (as in the past couple of days).  He lifted his tiny hand and rotated it up and down while repeating, "Ba, ba, ba,"  being sure to wave farewell to all he saw.

And for the record, Micaiah loved the train, too.  Her smile as we dis-embarked was absolutely priceless.

If I haven't mentioned it before, I'll say it now: I love these kids.


 (This picture is simply thrown in for good measure - she loved eating the cookie she drowned in sprinkles all by herself.)