Easter in my family means a couple of things. First, it means a delicious meal made by my parents that’s supplemented with some decadent dessert contributed by yours truly. Second, it means stuffing eggs, treats, prizes and money into every bush, bench, pot and tree in my parents’ backyard for the nieces and nephews to rabidly pursue.

This Easter held its usual joys. My parents cooked more baked beans, potato salad and barbecued chicken than any army of oinkers could consume and Jason and I added ice cream cupcakes from Cold Stone Creamery to the gluttonous mix. It was quite a satisfying spread.

The hunt this year went exactly as expected. Quite a few adults were involved in the cramming of goodies around the yard but it still took a while to hide the collected heaps of treats and toys, way too long as far as the kids were concerned. Those kiddies practically exploded outside when they were finally allowed to emerge from the house and, of course, due to overstimulation, they missed much of the entirely obvious plunder around them.

On Easter, munching and seeking has become a family tradition for us. I’ve been told by nieces and nephews that rummaging for Easter loot with their cousins is a preferred pastime and seeing the excitement on their small faces as they tear around the yard in search of oval treasures has made it a favorite pastime for me as well.