Due to some scheduling conflicts we had to move the kids' Easter party at church to this Friday night. The seemingly obligatory conversation has already taken place (If it's not, you're being legalistic for not letting us have an egg hunt and the easter bunny come then it's I don't lie to my children and teach them myths and Easter has nothing to do with plastic eggs and bunnies so if you have either I will not allow my children to participate. No offense to you, but...and the fall party is even worse for those conversations), so now it's down to the final preparations. We've done a lot of different things over the years, but this year we're doing things a little different. We're having a variation of a passover feast. I say variation because we're having things I'm certain they don't have (a LOT of fruit, dill pickles, etc) and I'm making some sloppy joe meat to go with the pita bread because I KNOW some of the kids will not even attempt/try sliced lamb, but the pita bread...we got it yesterday from the Jerusalem bakery in Raleigh. It smells SO good, and it's all I can do to keep from eating it now. I did tear off one piece. Had it not been for the clean smell of my kitchen, I could have sworn I was back in China by the kosher/halal Muslim bread makers. I know most of my picky little eaters will not even want to try it, and that's okay. Their loss. We were laughing yesterday at the grocery store as we were picking out things that when we started all this 10 years ago the kids were SO happy to do anything and eat anything that kid complaints were quite rare. This group is quite a bit different. So I'm very excited about tomorrow night, about celebrating and sharing our most important Christian holiday of the year, and yet I'm also a tad nervous. I want them to have fun, to make memories...to experience that abundant life in every sense and nuance of the words. So as we eat/paint/walk/run/jump/skip/tag/hop through Passover and Good Friday (come on...hasn't the trial where Jesus was blindfolded and commanded to prophesy who hit him always made you think a little bit of blind man's bluff?), we'll hopefully end on a calmer, more serious note. After all, Sunday's coming...
Saturday we had a baby shower for Bobby's niece. As I was making the mints, Bobby asked what else was on the menu. After I recited off the litany of items, he responded with "No peanut butter?! This shower is for Hannah! What's she going to eat?" (Hannah has had stomach problems over the years and has been unable to tolerate many foods, but peanut butter has been her staple.) Despite my assurances that she would enjoy the foods we were having, he was adamant that I needed to make peanut butter & jelly sandwiches for the shower. Even though I protested that NOBODY took that to a shower, he persisted, and informed me I could make them dainty with my little cutter. And so I did. To my surprise all but 3 were eaten. Who'd a thunk it?
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