When Richard took out the fence that separates our lots, and cut down the lilac bushes between us, a lot of space opened up. We have the equivalent of an inner city park between us. Well, that sentence is really an exaggeration, but it feels like a lot of space. But now there can be a garden, a playground area, a picnic place and still lots of room to play tag … and to build snowmen, since winter is not really over.
I checked on the calendar to see when Easter is. I can tell generally when Easter is, for I watch the candy counter at Costco and buy anything I think I will need to help me remember that chocolate equals Easter. Michael, next door, is three and a half – too young to get the larger concept of this being a religious occasion, so I have been thinking about the secular part of Easter with him – teaching him how to hide eggs.
| Message from Grandmother: |
Take a handful ... a big handful
He was to hide the eggs, grandfather was to find them, and Michael was to eat them at the exact moment he discovered them.
He hid the eggs in plain sight, he hid them down by table legs, in books shelves, among business papers and laid them carefully on top of Kelvin’s leg braces. That placement was possible for Grandfather had to lay on his chair with his eyes shut while Michael ran around the room hiding the Easter treasures.
And there was a lot of dialogue between him and me as we figure out which places are too precarious to hold one of those eggs. While figuring that out, I watched a lot of those eggs roll along the floor and under ledges from where I will never be able to retrieve them. I felt this way of hiding the eggs would work, geneally, for surely Kelvin could cheat a bit and look through his fingers, so he would have some idea of where to find the eggs when that part of the game began.
Such whoops of happiness as each egg was spotted by grandfather, when the second part of the game began. Dancing up and down in one spot. Arms flailing. Eyes darting to show grandfather where the next egg might be hidden.
On reflection I must comment that Michael doesn’t really like sweets. Kelvin has a long wicker basket by his chair, always full of six of more choices of candy. Right now you can find chocolate covered raisins, life savers, cinnamon hearts, energy bars, M&M. Michael just isn’t that interested in them and doesn’t eat much when he comes to visit. I sometimes wonder if he is genetically connected to me. But if I let him take an Easter basket full of them home to his house, then he weeps waterfalls when he thinks he has to share one with Alice.
Go figure. I told him the trouble is he just has mimetic desire. I try to teach him the phrase "mimetic desire", but no, he just wants all of the candies that Alice has her eyes on now and he isn't up to practising crazy phrases.