Easter that's gone to the dog


It's Easter morning and before any hour that's remotely human-friendly, I hear the pitter-patter of little feet running through the house to see if the Easter Bunny left behind any goodies. Struggling with consciousness, I drag myself out of bed hoping the coffee maker somehow planned for this hour. It's then, as I search for my glasses, that I remember –– I don't have little ones with pitter-patter feet anymore. My three stomping teens would never be awake at any hour before noon without serious bribing. The "E-E Bunny" (as they called him) lost his charm years ago. Sleep now outranks jelly beans in their world. (Sad, I know.)

It then dawns on me that the feet I'm hearing running from room to room are actually paws. Over the past 11 years Simon, our American Eskimo-Easter-loving-egg-hunting dog, wakes up earlier than any other day of the year, and just like he used to do with the kids, he runs around the house looking for his own hidden plastic eggs with dog treats hidden inside. 

Yawning, I know the "Easter Bunny" tries to put the chocolate-filled eggs out of his reach, but still I quickly get moving, knowing I can't miss the hilarious frenzy of watching Simon searching, hunting and gleefully throwing plastic Easter eggs into the air all over the house until they release his Easter treats. I think he must wonder where the kids are and why they're not joining him again this year. The Easter egg hunt is a blast!

Yes, holidays are different with the kids getting older, but I know once they finally do wake up they'll still appreciate the hunt to find their candy-filled baskets that have seen better days. 

At least until they open an egg and find a dog treat inside. 

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