Lessons From the Kissing Booth

Happy Zombie Jesus Day. Or, uh, Easter, depending on your preferred celebratory world view.

When I was little my mom and I would color eggs a few days before Easter and then on Easter morning I'd get up and find them. But then one year I didn't find them all and she didn't remember where she'd left them until a few weeks later when the smell became noticeable.
With that in mind, we always used plastic eggs for the boys to find.
They'd make me hide them three or four times on Easter, waiting with their heads under the bed until I called for them to come hunt. I enjoyed the hiding as much as they enjoyed the finding, so we'd play this game all afternoon until we collapsed in a sugar coma.
In the evenings, Kelsey and I would write vaguely suggestive, silly sentences on bits of paper and put them inside the eggs. Then we'd sneak out of my house and walk around the neighborhood sowing them broadcast in yards and mailboxes and open car windows. She and I would nearly kill ourselves laughing at how confused the people would be when they found our messages. We were overwhelmed with our own cleverness and daring.
At home Jet the cat would be crouched on the kitchen counter trying to get through the plastic and to the Peeps. He loved those little marshmallow chicks.