What a great weekend! With all of Big Daddy's children (and I am counting Rachel in that number as well whether she likes it or not) here, it was a full house. People were sleeping everywhere. Blankets and pillows and chaos. How fun for us! Now Preschooler D and I are just watching Sprout and eating up the left over Easter bread in the shape of a bunny (with a special shout out to faithful reader-friend Mary S.)
I don't think we had an Easter poem last week because I was in a mood of some sort. We'd better have one now. I'm choosing this one. It was too cold and damp to look for eggs outside on Sunday. Preschool D did a great job with the help of his adult siblings. We thought we found all 60 of them, but as I grabbed a spoon to stir cookie dough yesterday, another plastic egg popped out of the spoon crock. Are there more to be found yet?
Easter Eggs
Winifred C Marshall
Sing a song of Easter eggs --
Betty counted eight,
Hidden in a grassy nook,
By the garden gate;
Two beneath the lilac bush,
Near the pansy bed;
Bob gave her a purple one;
She gave Bob a red;
Four beneath a wild rosebush,
Growing in the yard.
Let's help Betty count her eggs;
It will no be hard.
Well, now that I am reading this again, I'm wondering if it's sort of a slap in Betty's face. "Not hard to count your few eggs, Betty! Maybe you shouldn't have given that red one to Bob!"
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