Every year I think, “Well, we have to dye eggs! Because that’s what you do at Easter time!”
It’s as if some Men in Black mind eraser comes and wipes my mind clear of the hassle and mess and whining and fuss and general fail that is dyeing eggs. Every. Single. Year.
And every single year, I get everything all set up with the boys and my husband.
And every single year, we fail. Nothing ever ends up as it is intended. The eggs are never as bright or as shiny or as perfect or as pretty or as whatever as I initially set out to achieve.
But every single year… we get something unique…
…forcing me to remember that perfection is totally overrated. You might start out going for the perfect Easter egg, whatever that means. Somewhere in the midst of not having enough vinegar and putting too much water in the cups because you didn’t read all of the directions before you started in the first place and more whining and the dog licking lemon juice off of your slipper and more whining and much parental sighing, you might end up with something kind of cool. Like accidentally super-pasteled with randomly spotted and striped tie-dyed eggs.
All that said, someone point me to this post the day before I say we’re going to dye eggs next year so I can buy enough vinegar, only put a half cup of water in each cup, and, I don’t know, leave town or something.