Easter Egg Practice

You had to see this topic coming right? Once again, when there are three small boys under one roof and you throw in the chance to humiliate your siblings (cue Wide World of Sports "The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat") by simply collecting more eggs than the others, it's like putting a lighter to hairspray.(or so I've heard)

I happen to work for a company that also owns a nursery and it is the perfect setting for the annual Easter egg hunt. 14 acres of trees, shrubs, perennials, ponds, mud, dirt, and rocks. Now to this add 10,000 eggs, approx. 1000 kids divided into 3 age groups, 2000 parents, the Easter Bunny and you have a fairly explosive setting. We have to get the city police department to help with parking otherwise there would be altercations involving well-meaning parents whose judgement has been clouded by the jubilation of kids drunk on the thought of jelly beans and tootsie rolls. Yes, it's that serious.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think I am the only parent that secretly harbors the thoughts of seeing your kid find "The Golden Egg" and basking in their glory as they give play by play accounts of how it was discovered. This might be a vision that I put a little more stock in since at the age of 5 I watched from the sidelines as my 7 year old sister actually achieved this feat in our home town. Yes the prize was a blue stuffed rabbit, but it looked like the greatest blue stuffed rabbit in the world and she WON it. So yes, there is a part of me that has carried that moment around for the last 30+ years, and if I can grab a slice of it vicariously through one of my kids, than maybe we can close that chapter, maybe. I know, I know, there are therapists out there drooling to get their hands on me.

Back to the hunt. A couple days ago I was out in the yard trying to puppy proof the yard (see previous post) and the boys came out to "practice" for the egg hunt. As a coach I was naturally excited and pleased to see this kind of extra work being put in before the week-end. My 7 year old had weaved his own basket at school that day, (what are they learning? where's dodge ball?) He was very proud of it and as far as I could tell, had created a masterpiece of construction paper. He made the serious mistake of deciding to use this during the practice session. All three boys were at it, the 7 year old, 6 year old, and 3 year old and it was going all right. Then out of no where, I hear a banshee scream. I turn to see if anyone has lost an appendage, not yet. I am able to take in this much, the 7 year old has set down his marvelous creation and in that moment it is snatched up by the 6 year old and he runs with it. (The 3 year old is busy filling his plastic eggs with sand from the sand box which he will shortly take inside and open on the kitchen table.) I see the 7 year old running at the 6 year old and screaming a battle cry reminiscent of William Wallace at Falkirk. The 6 year old hears the warrior scream and knows he has stepped over the line and stops to see if amends can be made. In the blink of an eye, the 7 year old has covered the ten yards and proceeds to lay a bone crushing tackle on the six year old, a real snot bubbler. In slow motion I see the air filled with multi-colored plastic eggs and construction paper. The six year old starts to cry, and I don't blame him.

Now I am faced with a parent conundrum. The hit was excessive and vicious, but at that moment I am thinking that that is the most athletic move my 7 year old has made to date and it was text book. He had his head to the side and drove through his target with his shoulder, if it would have been a ball carrier instead of an egg carrier and his little brother, he would have been tackled for a loss, and forced into an obvious passing down where the defense could pin their ears back. A game changer!! Focus Dad, focus.

I glance at my 3 year old and he says, "Bailey (the 7 year old) bad boy." This shakes the Friday Night Lights from my head and I am able to scold the 7 year old and send him inside where the terrible fate of explaining why his brother is crying to his mother awaits him, because I really am thinking to myself, how can you be mad about that kind of tackle? I take this moment to pull my 6 year aside and talk with him. He is no longer crying because he knows justice is about to be handed out on the other side of the sliding glass door. I offer condolences and some advice. You know if you keep your feet moving, make a jab step left, then stiff arm him under the chin he doesn't lay a hand on you. My wife overhears part of this and yells from the kitchen, what are teaching them?

My reply, we're just practicing!!