Easter is over and we still have two eggs at large. As the temperatures will surely rise the need to discover the missing eggs becomes of greater importance. As the hunt continues I'm drawn to evaluating the season and it all comes down to good egg, bad egg.
When I was a kid my mom made a behavior chart and posted it on the fridge. Our holiday plans included a trip to a hotel with an indoor pool. If my behavior merited enough bad eggs I would lose my swimming privileges. I loved swimming above all else, but I couldn't curb my bad behavior. Black eggs started appearing on my chart in lieu of colorful good behavior eggs. I couldn't help myself. No matter how much I wanted to swim I also wanted to misbehave.
When the final tally was taken the black eggs outweighed the pastels and it came down to a discussion with Mom, the decision maker.
She was often accused of being soft on us kids, but I like to think she gave a lot of thought to what we were experiencing in the life of children. I shed many tears, because the idea of being so near water and unable to swim was unbearable, but I also knew I had done wrong.
She did relent and I am still blessed with the memories of a six-year-old's back float looking up at a dome over a pool, snow falling in an apocalyptic Iowa April.
Good Egg, Bad Egg. It is hard to judge another.
Happy Easter!
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