Eastertime

These two handsome gentlemen on their way to pick up Grandpa for the priesthood session of conference.

Meanwhile, we dyed eggs. It's spring break, so I'm trying with mixed results to be a chill, fun mom.

The Easter bunny was good to us.

It's fun when Golda comes home!

Saturday night after the egg dying mayhem, I set the table for Easter.

Sunday morning preparation

Then breakfast at Grandma and Grandpa's. So good and fun!

These two are pretty remarkable.

The kids sneaked out into the back yard to scope out where the candy was and see what was in the eggs. All the grown-ups were completely fine with that. All the teens, IE the children born when we grownups still thought it was a big deal not to peek into the Easter eggs before the hunt, were greatly alarmed. Ha ha! Lots ot teens tattling on little kids, lots of "Meh" from the parents. I think it's funny that none of us have anything to prove anymore, and we all have a handle on what's important and what's not. Or maybe the younger kids are all just spoiled.

Grandma's cream puffs and adorable cake. She loves to use her creativity and skills in her baking, and she's really good at it!

We celebrated Xanthe and Britton.

These are some of the best boys anywhere. I'll fight you on this. :)

And then, after a couple sessions of General Conference, the King Easter dinner. Coco and Bill are in Paris with Josh and Esmae, so our numbers were fewer. We had a very nice time. Traj and Mic brought a good salad and fruit, and Emily brought home made bread and made the best carrot cake ever (Pioneer Woman recipe) and made ice cream cones for the kids. My part was easy and happened in the roasting pan while we were at Grandma's.

This Easter egg hunt had the fun extra challenge of avoiding giant piles of deer poop, brambly bushes and prickly weeds in the grass. And for Escher, the ultimate nemesis, concrete. He lost to the concrete three times and never did win. He went home with the biggest egg of all, on the back of his head, from toppling off a giant bean bag onto that mean concrete.

Don Carlos can no longer keep his tongue in his mouth. I think it's a Chihuahua thing. Nevertheless, he's a cutie.