It was a criss-cross of Legos of varying shapes, sizes and styles.
My pint-sized cousin, Maddie, all of about 5 years old, was busy tinkering with a contraption she was building in the floor of her Great-Grandma and Papa Todd’s living room the other day.
She was fresh off trying to trap leprechauns during the middle of March.
She thought she had figured out a way to trap the elusive green-clad sprites, but they had foiled her plans.
She didn’t come away entirely empty handed, though.
As luck would have it, probably from some fourleaf clovers, one of the leprechauns had left some gold, but it was chocolate.
I thought that would be counted a success.
But, no, not to Maddie. She was disappointed. She wanted the real thing. Gold. Actual gold. I do, too. Recently, my house payment went up, my house insurance went up, my health insurance went up and I have to pay more for gas. I also had to pay to have my septic tank drain field replaced.
I wonder if we are winning yet?
And, wouldn’t you know it, I have to pay Uncle Sam regularly and he likes my money. He always has his hands in my pockets. And, to top all that off, my money tree up and died and I didn’t save any seed off that sucker.
I am not sure if the Easter bunny has real gold, but that was Maddie’s next plan.
She decided to lay a trap for the Easter bunny. She sees him at her Poppie Greg and Mimi Darlene Todd’s house. The Easter bunny, she says, hops along in their backyard near the tree line.
I have several in my yard running between my house and Mama’s. Not sure if they are the same or just kin. I’m not even sure if it’s the real Easter bunny.
Truth be known, silly rabbit, Easter, or more particularly Resurrection Sunday, is for Jesus.
Not sure who came up with the hare-brained idea to make it about bunnies and Easter eggs.
I’ve done my fair share of hunting eggs.
When I was growing up, there were always egg hunts at our church, the community center and on both sides of my family — Deal and Jones.
Mama's side was always a large group, as I had 21 first cousins. I remember listening to Jefferson Starship’s “We Built This City'”
while we waited on the adults to hide the eggs. Aunt Carol “Cakky” Chancey was the gatekeeper that day if I remember. She threatened to get a switch to anyone who peeked or got too big of a head start. But, of course, we all, at one time or another, attempted to peak or get a head start.
One of the highlights of the hunt was always to find the prize egg. It was generally hidden well and was plastic and contained money. I almost found it one year. I put it in my basket, only to have one of the big city cousins visiting her grandparents claim that it had fallen out of her basket. Because we had to be nice to our guests, I had to allow her to win it. I always have believed she made up the story.
Easter generally meant lots of good treats and candies galore. I made myself sick off of malted chocolate Easter egg candy one year at Grandma's. I have never wanted them since.
And, speaking of sick, there was the time we found an Easter egg in the summer while mowing. That did not turn out so good.
One year we burned off the thicket by our house during the Easter cool snap. We made the Easter bunny homeless that year. Oops. Shame on us.
Maybe that’s why he never comes to visit me these days.
Maybe, like Maddie, I will have to come up with a plan to trap him.
She had a plan, but I am not sure if she’s ever figured out how to bait the trap. Carrots? eggs? grass?
Maybe, just maybe, this trap idea will work.
I’m hoping the Easter bunny will bring gold and lots of it — and not malted chocolate.
That will be just my luck.
Don’t forget to remember the real reason for the season.
He is Risen!
