The Bunny No Longer Rises

Happy Easter, folks.

God, I hate this holiday so much.  I know I've said that before, but it needs to be brought to everyone's attention every year.  Granted, it hasn't been as bad the last couple of years as it used to be when the girls were younger and bought into the whole Easter Bunny bullshit.  That was the worst:  having to change my handwriting style while creating clues for the annual scavenger hunt so that they thought the bunny wrote them himself (as if bunnies can even f***ing write, let alone create an intricately-designed system of sequenced clues.) 

Anyway.

I was convinced that this year we'd be able to simply set out the girls' Easter Baskets on the kitchen table and forego the usual scavenger hunt shenanigans, because neither girl seemed all that interested in Easter at all.  Then, literally the day before Easter, Alayna and Abby both asked if we were still creating a scavenger hunt for them.

And so, being the Super Dad that I am, I resigned myself to my fate and created yet another scavenger hunt throughout the house.  At least this year I didn't have to make them all cutesy by using a fake handwriting style and crafting colorful Easter Egg clues out of colorful paper - which saved an ass-load of time - but both girls brought up the fact that this year's clues were 'boring.'

I hate kids.

So yeah, this year's hunt was brutal for the girls.  The clues were challenging and vague, and required an active use of Google on their phones; consequently, it took them about two hours to complete the scavenger hunt, and we were convinced at one point that they weren't going to figure it all out before we had to get around for church (though ultimately they did.)

I didn't break out the SLR for this year's hunt, because I knew we were going to be taking a lot of breaks, but Kris took some video for you all - check it out:

The hunt begins. . .

Stuck on another clue, Alayna turns to Google and Abby gorges on grapes. . .

Kris guzzles some parenting juice.

She's going to really appreciate me posting this picture.

Of course I had to add some vinyl-related clues in there.  Anything to get these two learning about decent music.

Abby, heading in the wrong direction.

I thought some of these clues would have been too easy for the girls, buuuuuut. . . I guess not.

Hours later, they finally reach the end of their quest.

We always get suckered into buying these two assholes Easter Baskets.  The dogs, that is - not the girls. 

I LOVE Easter.

Giving the dogs some of their Easter Basket nonsense. . .

Kris wanted a picture of the girls on Easter before Church (this is about as formal as we can make the Cannonball dress these days.)

The whole gang, before heading out for Sunday service.

After church, Mom had folks over to her house for an Easter lunch with Grandpa Chinery.  While we were over there, I saw a recently-discovered hero from a long-gone age had magically resurfaced in one of the garden beds in Mom's backyard.  It was kinda like seeing an old friend, but the dude has definitely seen better days.

- Brian

The Death of the Easter Bunny

The first clue of the hunt. . .

What's up, Internet.

Well, this year was our first Easter where we didn't have to sell the myth of the Easter Bunny to our kids.  Not that they probably bought into the damn thing for the last few years anyway - our kids are older now and the idea of them buying into a mythic animal that brings them baskets of awesomeness is simply absurd - but they kept mum about it for awhile, probably in fear that them saying anything would negate future Easter Baskets from appearing on Easter Sunday.

Since they came out about not believing in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Rosie the Elf on the Shelf, and everything else we've passed over them over the years, it goes without saying that they were pretty vocal about not believing in the Easter Bunny anymore either.  This was exceptionally good news for us, since we - and Yours Truly, especially - has loathed the entire Easter thing for years.  This meant that this year, we wouldn't have to prep as much for this year's shitty, shitty holiday Sunday.

Thank f***ing Jesus.

Alas, the girls were still looking forward to our annual Easter Basket Scavenger Hunt, so I still had to set that up for them.  The good news here was that at least I didn't have to create a separate handwriting style for them, in order to fool the kids into thinking a frickin' bunny hand-wrote all the clues around the house.  So I had that going for me this year.

So yeah. . . Easter this year was a little scaled down from previous years, but it still followed the familiar format.  Scavenger Hunt, then Baskets, then Church.  We decorated eggs in the evening this year, because we had failed to do so before this point, and the girls said they still wanted to do them (son of a bitch.)  So here's what the Houghs' Easter '21 looked like.

Behold. . .

I always set out the first clue right on the kitchen table, where they can easily spot it.

I was going to upload videos of this year's scavenger hunt, but Kris recorded two ten-minute videos (yes, it took that long this year), and they were too large to upload.  My apologies.

Due to our kids' age - and their recognition of the falsehood of the Bunny myth - I went out of my way to make this year's hunt ridiculously challenging.  It required using Google to look up clues, which I thought was a solid touch.

For example, I'd reference Black Sam Bellamy in a clue, so Alayna had to google the name on her phone.  This told her that he was a pirate, so they then had to think about where they could find more information on piracy.  This led them to my library in the Study, where they had to flip through my many, many books on pirates in order to find the hidden clue that led them forward on the scavenger hunt.

As always, I spaced the clues out so that they had to run up and downstairs repeatedly, to various rooms, and I spread them out as much as possible to maximize the movement.  I'm an asshole.

Searching for Rancid's best-selling album in their discography. . .

. . . And Out Come the Wolves.  One of the greatest albums ever made.

Stumped.  This happened multiple times this year, and we offered little to no assistance.  They had to work for their baskets this year.

Many clues were hidden in movies, records, books, and even video games, as pictured here.

Searching for Cthulu.

They almost missed this one.

Surprisingly enough, they actually worked pretty well together this year.  We had our doubts.

Kris, recording a shitload of video (that unfortunately you won't be able to see.)

Time for wine.

The last clue had them looking for something I'd wear to Lodge, so they started digging through my closet looking for dress shirts, ties, and suit coats.  It took them a ridiculously long time to realize the baskets sitting out at their feet, in clear view.

Taking the baskets out to the living room to open 'em up.

And of course the dogs had to have an Easter Basket.  It'd be a full-blown Easter disaster if they hadn't got to 'open' one.

Not as much candy in this year's baskets.  The girls, while appreciating candy a great deal, would rather have 'stuff' instead.

Enjoying some Easter treats.

Samson, enjoying his second Easter.

More snacks for dogs.

I hate Easter so damn much.

After dinner, we decided to decorate Easter Eggs on the back patio, since the sun was out and the weather was decent.

Rockin' the Paas set, as always.

This shit always smells god-awful.

Abby loves wearing this old camping jacket of mine.  No idea why.

Played around with a few different lenses while we were doing this.  The sun light makes it fun.

While the eggs were soaking in dye, the girls - for whatever reason - decided to take multiple laps around the house to burn off energy.  Whatever works.

Watson, hanging out.

Usual middle school weirdness.

This pic looks like an author portrait at the back flap of a self-help book.

The knuckleheads, doing what they do in the backyard.  Happy, shitty Easter, America.

- Brian