Sweet Surprise

The truth is, I like surprises. When you’re Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy and the All-Purpose Birthday-Anniversary-Celebratory Event Party Planner and Present Wrapper for a family of five (plus a dozen grandpas, grandmas, aunts, uncles and cousins), unexpected moments on the receiving end of preconceived gift-giving are...well, nice. Last evening my “Easter Vigil” involved a trip to Walmart, followed by a stop at my brother’s house to pick up some eggs-tra “emptys,” followed by a late night of basket-filling, -hiding, and the painstaking process of stuffing and labeling approximately 100 bright-colored plastic egg-shaped containers. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy doing this sort of thing (although I like it better when I do more of the work in advance, which I usually do). But I sometimes feel a little left out of the fun. It’s the kid in me, I suppose.

Well, lo and behold, after hitting the pillow at 3:44 a.m. and rolling groggily out of bed at 7:26, I found my very own Easter surprise this morning! My dear elder daughter—the one who almost daily drives me to the brink of insanity—had thoughtfully prepared a basket for me, containing: a handmade “Happy Easter” card with rainbow lettering (Signed, The Kidster Bunny); three decorated hard-boiled eggs, wrapped in paper towels and tied up with Christmas ribbons; a tiny vase of precious periwinkle flowers she’d found in our yard; a “Boo-Boo Bunny” for our freezer, fashioned from a washcloth, yarn, and googly eyes; and, perhaps best of all, a half-dozen coupons for various everyday favors: “Being Nice,” “Playing With the Little Kids,” “20 Minutes Practicing Trombone (no complaints!)”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get more stuff for you,” said my darling girl, innocently underestimating the tremendous value of her offering. I was verklempt.