The Egg-cellent Hunt

Illnesses aside, Easter weekend was full of fun and surprises. Grandma K and Anne braved the notorious night train to Sacramento, where we picked them up for a day of trekking the downtown shops and eating buckets of seafood. Seriously. They made Anne wear a bib as she cleverly cracked a concoction of crab legs in a tin bucket. Naturally, Rocky roamed the restaurant meeting the other guests and Jack devoured any chance of leftovers. If we lived in Sac Town, I would be working at Joe's Crab Shack for sure. I realized this after the staff spontaneously broke out in disco dance when Stayin' Alive played. It took all of my willpower (and determination not to humiliate our table) to keep me from joining in. Over the next few days we laughed, rocked out, visited the Farmer's Market in search of local allergy combatting bee pollen, colored eggs and partook in Grandma K's egg-citing Egg Hunt Eggs-travaganza. Rocky was egg-static about it as we egged him on. No one was allowed to read the clues egg-cept for Grandma. He hunted the eggs egg-ceptionally well as we egg-spected. It was egg-hilirating for Grandma to see the egg-stacy Rocky felt each time he found an egg. Alright...I think I've egg-hausted all the egg words, so here's a clip of the hunt:

Since we had inadvertently tossed Rocky's Easter basket prior to the hunt, he ended up with an Easter bucket. It's a new Sorenson family tradition. We also discovered that brave baby Jack actually has two fears: bubbles and beach balls. Needless to say, he was terrified by the contents of his Easter bucket.