Thanks to Florida’s Voluntary Pre-Kindergarten scheme, Sally was aware of Easter last year in a less (more?) than religious sense. Honestly, awareness of other families’ customs was about the only thing she learned last year; at her pre-K graduation the kids held up letters that spelled out “N-O-I-T-A-U-D-A-R-G.”
Now, I have fond memories of waking up on Easter Sunday to, oh, hmmm, cheerios and church, as far as I can recall. Not that church isn’t good, and not that this was a surprise seeing as how each Easter followed a Halloween of no trick-or-treating (get out that encyclopedia and read for yourself how pagan it is) and a Christmas with no Santa (though we did get presents, I admit).
Last year, I was quite resolved to be above the Easter fray and poor Dick (who did have Easter baskets as a child), as a loving but completely clueless father (oh, is Easter this month?) was in no position to dissent.
So where did I find myself at 11:30 at night on Easter Eve, 2006? I know I say that Wal-Mart is my favorite store, but that is mostly a sad joke, and have you seen who shops there late on Saturday nights? The Easter aisles were stripped. A bleak sight at your cavernous Wal-Mart store. But I persevered and innovated, and the kids had eggs to hunt and candy to stuff in their faces.
This year I found myself once again at my favorite store, almost a week before the big day, and spent $20 on holiday accoutrements to tempt the ungodly. $20, in case you’re wondering (this means you, mom), is a mere drop in the sea of Easter commercialism. We’ll have our hunt and dye party on Saturday (of course, Dick and I get an even bigger thrill from hiding than the kids do from finding) and contemplate the Atonement and Resurrection of our Savior on Sunday through a mild, family-togetherness-enhanced sugar haze.
In for a pagan penny, in for a pound. Here are the Easter dresses: