Saturday, April 11, 2020

Pandemic Pâques/Pasqua/Пасха/Πάσχα


The matching pyjamas coordinated with matching face masks will be a fond pandemic memory for years to come, I'm sure...if, in fact, pandemic memories can ever actually be pleasant...which I'm not sure they technically can. I mean, we're fine...but we're reeling from how insane this *gestures broadly* all is.


And do to that incessant spinning, it's still Easter tomorrow. I was planning on leaving most of that Easter sort of thing until tomorrow since today was rather full (with sewing and baking and candlestick making (just kidding about the candlesticks though)) but then a local friend of Facebook posted pictures of her kids doing an Easter egg hunt in their yard, saying, "Because it's supposed to thunderstorm all day tomorrow..." and I thought, "Oh, no! I didn't even check the weather before I decided we'd do our Easter egg hunt outside tomorrow!"

The forecast was...not encouraging, so I told the kids to get on their matching jammies (it was about time to get ready for bed anyway) and to run down to the basement to play together. Then I told Andrew that I had filled 120 (+2) eggs with candy but that we'd just leave those other two eggs out, leaving us with a nice, even 120 eggs (which, I mean, 122 is also even—I get that—but it's not nice and even because it isn't divisible by five, while 120 is (there I go using math again (and not even on a school day))). We ran outside to hide the eggs and then called the children up and told them that we were going to go on another family walk because the first one wasn't good enough. 

They reluctantly came upstairs, put on their shoes, and shuffled outside (one family walk is exciting, I guess, but two. I mean...come on!).

When they saw the Easter baskets they realized what was going on and went a little crazy. We calmed them down and instructed them (1) to find only 24 eggs each and (2) that if an egg seemed to easy for them to find it probably was and should be left for a smaller child and (3) if they happened upon a sparkly pink egg or Spiderman egg they should probably also leave that for the child who would most appreciate stumbling upon an egg of such amazing description. And then we set them loose. 

And it was pandemonium. 


Zoë and Alexander didn't realize at first that they'd need baskets. It's been awhile since they've gone on an egg hunt they have memories like goldfish. But somehow Alexander knows the Easter Bunny is coming...? That seems so weird to me because I hardly talked to him about the Easter bunny at all and I only realized tonight as I was tucking him into bed that I completely neglected to locate any of our Easter stories to read to him in preparation for this holiday. But someone must have been filling him in on the details because he's awfully excited for the Easter Bunny.


Once everyone had their baskets, they were off once more. Alexander was tripping over himself trying to get to eggs (or perhaps it was his poorly tailored pants that he was tripping over) and once he found two eggs he was about done with the activity. He had to be coaxed to put them into his basket and continue. Like, why would he need to keep looking for eggs? He already has two. And a basket!



Here's Miriam handing him the Spiderman egg she found. She took the rules very seriously (so seriously that by the time her siblings had amassed well over their allotment of two dozen (evidently they're not counting today because counting is math and it's not a school day) she had only found three; I was like, "Get in there, girl!").

 

Part of her lack of enthusiasm might have arisen because she somehow believed that we wouldn't have anything for Easter because we're in quarantine-mode. She asked me, "What is even in these eggs? Rocks?"



"Candy," I told her.

"How?" she asked.

"I...put...it...inside..."

"But how? Where did you get candy?"

"Dad got candy at the store weeks ago."

"Really?!"

Here she is pleasantly surprised that there was, indeed, candy inside:




Benjamin had been a believer in candy-filled eggs the entire time and it showed:



Here's Rachel with her basket:


Benjamin stooping to pick up an egg from the middle of the lawn (breaking rule #2):



Here's Alexander and Benjamin stopping to count their eggs to make sure they're not breaking rule #1 (but Benjamin had already massively broken rule #1, which is why we demanded he stop looking for eggs and count the ones in his basket in the first place):


Alexander has a well-child check coming up and I had to fill out a lengthy questionnaire about his development. One of the questions asked whether or not he could repeat a string of two random numbers. Now, I believe in his ability to pull off a stunt like that. The only question is will he do it? Probably not when I ask him to. Probably not.

My kids do mimic in their own little way. But not like other kids, necessarily.

Take our little cousin Riley, for example. When he was two he was a verbatim mimicker. And he would say whatever you told him to say, right on the spot. Zoë, on the other hand, would not.

Instead she's look at you with disgust and say, "No."

"Riley, say 'cup of water.'"

"Tup of wawa."

"Zoë, say 'cup of water.'"

"No."

Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.

Alexander is much the same way. I kept giving him random numbers to repeat and he told me, "No," every single time. So I marked off on the sheet that he could do it even though he wouldn't. That's not lying, right? I mean, he was counting the eggs as he pulled them out of his basket this evening and then started repeating the numbers Benjamin was saying as Benjamin was counting (which weren't random because they were sequential). I decided that didn't count as repeating two random numbers.

But I got him to do it during scripture study!

The only time he'll repeat what I ask him to say is if he's praying (and that's only a 'sometimes') or when it's his turn to 'read' the scriptures. So in the middle of his verse I said "two, eight" and he repeated "two, eight" and—by, golly!—I'm going to count it!

He read about half of Mosiah 5:10. He was supposed to read the whole thing but he bailed in the middle. It went like this:

I said, "And now it shall come to pass," and he repeated that part.

"That whosoever..."

"That whosoever..."

"Two, eight..."

"Two, eight..."

At this point there were many confused looks from the children, but Andrew told them to just hush.

"...shall not take upon him..."

"...shall not take upon him..."

"...the name of Christ..."

"AMEN!" Alexander cheered.

And then he wouldn't repeat anymore. That was the end of his reading.

So I took over for him, little Pavlov.

Anyway, back to the egg hunt:


As you can see, some of us (*ahem* Zoë *ahem*) collected so many eggs that we needed a second basket (a sure sign that one has exceeded their quota):


Fortunately, our big sisters are awfully sweet and Miriam (specifically) said that she didn't mind if the little kids found more than she did as long as they were all having a good time (and she was having a good time without having found as many eggs (because she was so desperately trying to follow rules 1–3)).



Here's Rachel racing around trying to find more eggs:


 

When we did our semi-final counting of the eggs we were five short so we sent the kids searching for eggs. They found three and then were searching high and low and left and right but were finding nothing.

 


At one point Benjamin said, "Ooh! An egg is stuck to the ceiling!" and both his older sisters looked up to see it. He was only joking, however, and thought it was hilarious that they looked.



And then Rachel saw a yellowing leaf in our tree and ran over to grab it, only to realize it was a leaf, not an egg. She thought that was pretty funny:



And then Andrew revealed that we'd miscounted. All the eggs had been found and we were currently searching for nothing.



Here's Zoë's final pose with one of her baskets:


And here is Alexander sweetly asking, "Tan I eat bih tandy?"


Finally, here's one more picture of our pandemic-ready children:


It's honestly a good thing we're social distancing because I don't think I could ever convince them to go out in public dressed like this. And by "like this" I mean all matchy-matchy (they are more than willing to go into public wearing their pyjamas, trust me).

Alexander looks adorable in his mask:


I didn't get a chance to fit Zoë's or Benjamin's masks to their faces (because they disappeared this afternoon (they were supposed to be drawing with chalk in the cul-de-sac but they were no where to be found); but that's a story for tomorrow), so theirs were both a little loose (also Zoë has hers on backwards):

 

Here's Miriam:


And Rachel:

And here they are trying to shove as much candy into their mouths before we say it's officially time to get ready for bed:







At this moment, I am halfway up the stairs and Alexander is asking me to open that egg for him. Like, dude, there are five people in the room with you who can do that and I'm on my way to put the camera away so...chill.
Not bad for a rushed Easter egg hunt.

And then the Easter Bunny (that wily guy) stole all the eggs the kids found and hid them around the music room so they'll have to find them all again, anyway (so I guess we could have just had the egg hunt inside in the first place (but outside egg hunts are so much more fun))!

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