It’s egg hunting time again! And that means finding the baskets stuffed somewhere in the back of a closet, grabbing the camera, heading to the local park and praying you find a parking spot that’s in eyesight of the fields of eggs.
Egg hunts, as a journalist, are a double-edged sword. As great as the photographs are from the event, it’s very stressful. Depending on the venue, you have two to three minutes to snap as many quality pictures as you can. Then you get to play a fun game of “Where’s Waldo” to find parents of the children you took photos of to get names – most heading straight to their vehicles.
I think what the city, churches and other organizations do to host the free events is admirable. We’re lucky to live in a place where you get to pick and choose which egg hunts to attend since so many coincide.
Last year was my first time attending egg hunts as a parent and my observations from a community event rubbed me the wrong way. My daughter was in the 0-2 age group and parents were carrying their kids to the highest concentration of eggs and actually throwing them into their baskets. As if that wasn’t enough, I saw other kids dragged by a guardian to the next plastic container and moved on as their tiny legs were still tried to get traction with the ground. It made me want to give them a buck and say, “Stop at a store, buy some candy and please stay home next year.” What made me shake my head most was the fact that these kids weren’t even old enough to eat the pieces of candy inside the eggs.
By the way, my daughter had a blast collecting her three eggs last year and I know she will again this year. I’m just hoping the prospect of free sugar doesn’t cause adults to act the age of their children.
