Pot brownies and a giant chicken

This may be the first year Alison got a chocolate bunny in her Easter basket. For the longest time, she didn't like chocolate so I never got her a bunny when she was little. She made do with Laffy Taffy and gum.

When she finally embraced chocolate, I tended to get her dark chocolate bars and fancy bites. But this year, I found a bunny shaped container of her favorite Ferrero Rocher truffles along with some super cute baking supplies. In addition to liners, I found tiny baking tins that look like little terra cotta plant pots. I thought she'd make pretty cupcakes decorated like potted flowers.

"Oooh. I can make pot brownies and take them to school," she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

I worry about that girl.

She doesn't remember an Easter when we didn't go home, and this year was no exception. In past years, we've had pretty complicated egg hunts. One year, we had an egg shoot. This year, we hadn't planned a hunt, but Jaime's foreign exchange daughter, Andrea, hasn't ever participated in an egg hunt so Jaime and I hid 100 of them around Donna's house.

It took them the better part of an hour to find them all and to sort out who had found those with Lottery ticket prizes. I made them take a photo at the end showing off their loot as if it were a squirrel hunt.  No one questioned what that meant.

On the way down and back home, we passed by what may be my favorite piece of yard art, ever. I'm trying to talk Jason into getting one. I mean, who doesn't need a giant chicken? It's got to be six-feet-tall.

Like Jason, Jeff doesn't see the charm but I'm going to work on him. Or I'm going to get Alison to make him some of those pot brownies.