Did you play that game when you were a kid? Colored Eggs? It goes like this: A bunch of kids sit on the front porch steps. They are colored eggs. Each kid decides which color they are and when they do, they tell the “mother.” Once the colors have been determined, the “wolf” comes to visit. He tells the mother, “I want some colored eggs!” The mother asks what color the wolf wants. If the wolf says a kid’s color, they run as fast as they can around the house. If they make it back to the steps, they remain a colored (albeit changed) egg. If they are caught, they become the wolf. I was always caught because I was (and am) very slow. And then the game was pretty much over because I could never catch anyone else. Unless the kid we called Jeremiah Bullfrog played. He was two years younger than the rest of us and the only kid on the block who was slower than me. I frequently volunteered to be the mother. Otherwise, I was a virtually unguessable chartreuse egg.
Yesterday, after Julia’s cheer and tumbling classes and one false start, we colored eggs.
Julia was too excited to even change her clothes.
We had six color tablets, so I gave Julia and Lucy each three cups and three tablets.
Julia stirred each of her cups simultaneously.
Lucy preferred the one-at-a-time method.
Phoebe looked on and offered an occasional, “Da da DA! PPTHHPTHPFFTHPPPT!!!”
Yellow is Lucy’s favorite color.
Her egg coloring technique was decidedly hands on.
I like to imagine Lucy as an abstract artist, painting like Jackson Pollock or the Ben Stiller character in If Lucy Fell.
Lucy herself is like an action painting.
Julia was a little more careful. She used utensils. She didn’t get so much as a spot on her tumbling outfit.
Gosh, look at that kid. Julia is beautiful. And she has no idea. I mean, she believes that she’s beautiful in the “everyone is beautiful in their own way” sense. She doesn’t realize she’s extraordinarily beautiful. I guess that’s not a bad thing, though. Right?
Bee says, “Right!” and remains the happiest child on the planet.
Most of our eggs turned out looking like they’d been painted and started to peel.
Perhaps due to a reaction with our water softening chemicals? I don’t know. They look cool, though.
We tried to change things up to create new and different looks.
We wrapped some eggs with rubber bands.
That was kinda cool.
Here’s my attempt at a Van Halen egg.
I call it “Running with the Deviled Egg.”
When I feed Bee applesauce, I sing, “Applesauce” to the tune of Panama.
“Apple-sauce! Apple-sa-auce! Apple-sauce! Apple-sa-a-a-a-a-auce!”
She digs it.
We made a total of 30 eggs.
You know how Cool Hand Luke said no one can eat 50 eggs?
Well, maybe no one can eat 50 eggs, but Julia can eat damn near 30.
Okay, I’m exaggerating. She ate 5. That’s still a buttload of eggs.