The Missing Egg

It seems inevitable that there is a missing egg (or three) after every Easter egg hunt. Having learned from my parents’ mistakes, I refuse to hide hard boiled eggs but instead hide those of the brightly colored plastic variety. Last year, one yellow egg went missing, never to be found. We kept saying that it would turn up when we moved, but here we are, moved into the new house and the egg has yet to be found. Happy Easter to you, new owners!

This year we have three missing eggs. The children have long since given up the egg hunting ghost, and moved onto the consumption of copious quantities of candy. My husband, however, is still prowling the house, searching for the missing eggs. Lifting cushions, squinting under tables, muttering incoherently to himself. I wonder how many hours he’ll be at it?

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