I realized something last Saturday.

What was it, you ask?

That my children will never make Easter eggs that look like the ones on Martha Stewart’s website. And I’m okay with that.

Well, not REALLY okay with that, but here’s the deal: sometimes a control-freak-creative-type like myself just has to let go because, frankly, dying Easter eggs is NOT all about me. It’s about my 5 year-old and 7 year-old who still believe that a small furry animal who lacks opposable thumbs manages to enter their house and hide a bunch of eggs. In places like, say, the bookshelves. Because we all know rabbits can totally climb up a bookshelf.

But I digress.

When did the nuclear arms race of Easter egg dying begin? Who started this? The perfect pastel colors, the bits of lace you cut out and apply to the surface, only to be removed after you hand-paint your perfect egg, revealing a perfect lace pattern…this is ridiculous. My children do not care about this. They just like making really ugly eggs.

Do you see that one hiding back there, on the left side of the photo? Yep, that’s a brown egg. My kids took all these beautiful bowls of bright, saturated colors and what’s the first egg they produce? An ugly brown one. My husband had a name for that egg, which is inappropriate to share here. They boys loved it (the egg, not my husband’s name for it…they won’t be permitted to use crass language like that for at least another 6 months).

So, do these eggs rival Martha’s? Not so much, but the kids had fun, and I achieved a minor personal victory when I managed not to visibly cringe as they scribbled in crayon and dyed them orange and brown. I’d like to say that next year, they couldn’t possibly come up with an uglier egg, but somehow I think they’ll try. Check back in twelve months for the evidence.

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