I remember going on a few Easter egg hunts as a kid. I believe we usually went to the one at the neighborhood park and I think we went to a hunt at the shopping mall one year. Dad didn’t mind taking us to these kiddie events, though he always lurked far away from the festivities, smoking behind a tree patiently. As a kid perhaps I would have preferred a more hands-on father who became excited about plastic eggs and jelly beans and chocolate bunnies, but as an adult, I totally understand his indifference. At least Mom was there with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.
I’ve written previously about our humble but pleasant Easter family traditions but I also remember Easter egg hunts in our apartment. Dad would be roped into helping, though I doubt he put much effort into it, which was a bonus for me! To be fair, it was pretty difficult to hide anything in our small living quarters, but Mom could get pretty creative. I remember enjoying these at-home Easter egg hunts even more than the public ones. (Well let’s face it, since I was an only child I had no competition at home!)
I don’t have any bad memories of Easter. The holiday just floated by in a sweet haze.