We had our annual Easter egg hunt, and again this year, no one was injured, though there were some bruised feelings, and I don't mind saying they were mine. The hunt covers a small territory, the kitchen and dining room, so everything is easy to find. It's really about tradition, not some kind of trickery where a hard-to-find egg winds up emitting a terrible odor several weeks later from it's then not-so-hard-to-find hiding place. Each year I place a medium-sized plastic pull-apart egg in plain view (so it's easy for my wife to find). Inside the egg is a carefully-folded certificate for an evening of romance, complete with dinner, wine, snuggling, and then who knows where the evening goes. It's a distinctive egg, bright pink with the words "LOOK HERE" printed on the outside.
Well, this year my ever-so-wiley wife let the cat find and open the egg. She claimed she forgot about it's significance, shrugged it off, pointed to the cat and said, I hope you and Miss Pickles have a lovely evening. I realize the cat found the egg, but I draw the line at taking the cat out for a fancy dinner in one of those atmospheric places with wine, mood lighting, swirly rolls in a basket, and cellophane encased toothpicks. Pickles is a pretty smart cat but I'm quite certain she can't read, so I'm declaring the certificate null and void, and as long as I keep food in her bowl, she will harbor no grudge.
But this ship has to be turned around, pronto. Having to wait a full year for another chance at a romantic evening doesn't seem fair for someone who still turns up the radio when Gino Vanelli is singing "I Just Wanna Stop." And that's not the half of it. Last year I forgot to sign the certificate, thinking she'd know it was me who placed it there. Anyway, she claimed someone put junk mail in the egg. This has gone on far too long, and besides, the expiration date on my Venezuelan Love Cologne is sometime in August.
I'm putting another egg together right away and announcing our next egg hunt: "No Housework Day" (April 7th), a holiday that, quite frankly, is celebrated all year long at our house, but this will make it guilt-free and special. And I'm signing the certificate in the presence of a witness, Paul "Jenky" Jenkins, my friend from junior high who is honest and punctual, as well as being an accomplished accordion player with several framed certificates saying as such.
And the egg will be taped shut so the cat can't get at it.
