There are times when I  grow weary of all the accusations and nastiness that fly back and forth between people on different sides of the political spectrum. Similarly, I sometimes become despondent over the seemingly never-ending parade of bad news – famines, floods, wars, crimes of every kind – delivered over the media. Sometimes I need an escape even if it lasts only a few minutes. That’s why the Easter egg hunts held over the last several years on my back lawn (weather permitting) are so important.

The beauty of these family Easter egg hunts lies in their ability to bring so much joy with so little effort. To be sure, there are a few preliminaries. Candy and small toys are purchased and inserted inside plastic Easter eggs that are opened in the middle and then re-sealed. The search area (otherwise known as the backyard) must be cleared of dog poop and anything else that might make a mess.  One or two extra Easter baskets are also provided in case a child comes without one.

Then I scatter the eggs around. There’re nearly 100 of them. A few might be hidden under a shrub or in a clump of ivy, but most are on the grass more or less in plain sight. Soon thereafter, the Easter egg hunters arrive. They usually include four grandchildren and sometimes a friend or two. This year, Seven-year-old Nikolai, five-year-old Naomi, almost three-year-old Alek, and two-year-old Christopher were the only ones taking up the challenge. I recited the rules to them (no pushing, no grabbing eggs out of another child’s hand or basket, every child must end up with at least five eggs) and then let them go. Pandemonium ensued as the egg hunters began their quest. A competitive atmosphere prevailed for awhile, but after the two older children filled their baskets to near capacity, they began to help the younger ones.  

A philosopher might assert that an Easter egg hunt imitates the “real world.” There are treasures to be found and people competing to find them. There are rules to be followed. Even so, the best-equipped competitors – those with sharp eyes and quick feet – win the most. I choose not to take a philosopher’s perspective on the hunt. Instead, I enjoy watching excited kids scamper about, shouting with joy as eggs are found, and proudly showing off their baskets when the hunt ends. And unlike the “real world” there are no losers. The kids leave with candy and toys, and I gain some relief from the world’s ill will and bad news.