Easter Baskets

This past Saturday Turtle and Monkey hunted Easter Eggs for the first time. “Hunt” is probably too generous a word – the extra-large plastic eggs were simply put on the ground in a small area on the church lawn roped off for toddlers. Then the girls wandered around picking up eggs and putting them in the baskets Twin Daddy and I eagerly held in front of their faces. Nonetheless, eggs were found and collected, and we all enjoyed it.

What was really special about the hunt, though, is that the girls forgot about their baskets the instant we moved on to the petting zoo. Twin Daddy pointed out that for the first and probably last time, the girls don’t care about their Easter baskets. There was no fighting over who stole whose egg, no competition over how many eggs were found, no negotiating over how much of the candy could be eaten before lunch. The baskets have been sitting in the laundry room since Saturday, and no one has complained that Twin Momma ate the candy out of the few eggs that actually had candy in them (this was a proper yuppie hunt so most of the eggs had animal crackers, goldfish, raisins, toys or stickers in them). They don’t know what candy is, they don’t know whose eggs I’m using when I take a couple out for playtime, and they don’t care that the eggs are all mixed up at this point.

I know this is not going to last much longer. We are in a very small window where the girls enjoy what they are offered, without wanting anything. They simply absorb the moment and move on to the next one. The only thing they ever ask for is food (which is referred to in general as “apple”) and milk (“buh”). One might bring you a book to read to her, and the other might stand at the front door hoping you’ll take her out to ring the wind chime. That’s it. It’s a pretty blissful existence if you ask me. They don’t care what they wear. They don’t care what toys they have. They don’t watch TV or movies so they don’t know what's "in."

How do we maintain this simplicity? I doubt it can be done, and I’ve resigned myself to fighting this losing battle in little ways. I’ve stopped catalogs from coming into the house (using http://www.catalogchoice.org/), because I don’t want my two-year-old pointing out the bedding set she wants from the Land of Nod catalog. I try to limit trips to the store with them, so they don’t become accustomed to shopping. We try not to eat or drink anything in front of them that we wouldn’t want them to have (I save my ice cream binges for after they go to bed, fully aware that I am a hypocrite).

I don’t know if these and other little measures I’m taking are going to amount to anything in the long run, considering the overall excess of the world we live in. But it’s such a fleeting period of total control over what they see, eat, and do, that I’m letting my inner control freak go wild. I’ll loosen up soon enough, don’t worry. For now, though, I’m enjoying my pure, innocent little girls, who want nothing more than to take each other’s hand and explore the simple wonder of the world.