"Do you guys do Easter?" a co-worker asked me Friday at lunch. "Yeah," I replied, "But it's really kind of a pagan Spring celebration for us, not a religious thing."
This year, said pagan celebration ended up happening with our dear little group of friends, whom I think of in my head as our "Lawrence family". We had originally planned a camp out, but the forecasted Saturday overnight thunderstorms (which actually happened and were pretty fierce) led to a Saturday evening campfire/Sunday morning brunch instead.
For Easter Eve, we grilled quesadillas over the campfire, as babies and lime tarts and s'mores and guacamole were passed. (Not necessarily in that order.)
The little ones dozed in and out on a warm blanket under the trees. The "big" boys got good and muddy in the creek, and Little Miss flittered between trying to keep up with the boys and stopping to "pet" the babies.
It wasn't a super late night, but when the Kid popped up in bed with us at 7 ("You awake, Mom? You awake?" as he pried my eyelids open with his fingers) it felt so very early. I made him let his sister sleep for another half an hour, then I ("Finally!") consented to going downstairs to check out what the Easter bunny brought.
I had thought the cool bendy straws would be the hit, but nope--she went straight for the "lipstick".
And he for the Legos. How many times can you freeze Han Solo in carbonite in one day? I'm not sure, but it's a lot.
Once baskets were investigated (and coffee was acquired) we headed back out to our friends' house for some egg hunting.
Babies and bloody marys! Thee best.
Eggs were found. Chocolate and breakfast enchiladas were consumed. (I believe exactly in that order.)
And then we headed home for a family Easter nap.