Mounted the birdhouse on a tree where we can easily sit and watch it. Had a few birds come check it out: a tufted titmouse, an Eastern bluebird, a black-capped chicadee, maybe one or two more my wife saw. None of them have started nesting in it yet, but I have a good feeling about it.
My oldest had a friend over; the point was that I should take them and my middle child to an Easter egg hunt that my wife had found out about from a flyer the oldest had brought home from school, passed out by a classmate.
We got to the place and it was a church with a large wide-open field next to it. Cars were in the parking lot, but the field looked completely deserted. We parked and watched and I saw a family get out of their car and walk into the church, with kids carrying Easter baskets. So I said "Ohh, it's an indoor Easter egg hunt. Alright kids, let's go," and we got out and walked toward the church.
A kid who must have been 7 or 8 years old greeted us in an unusually enthusiastic and articulate way that made me think he was one of those child preachers-in-training or whatever. I asked the adult standing nearby, who I think was his mom, if this was the place for the Easter egg hunt, and she said yes, so we went inside.
Then I noticed all the little girls were in fancy dresses and all the little boys were in suits. Same for the adults: all the men wore suits, all the women wore dresses, with long skirts. That long skirt thing sent up a red flag. (My kids were in play clothes, and I was in my usual cargo pants and t-shirt and work boots, with a sawdust-speckled jacket I'd just worn while making the birdhouse.) We walked further into the main room of the church where I was expecting to see a large cleared area with eggs hidden poorly in the center, but instead I saw rows of chairs with a center aisle, and most people sitting in the chairs.
My eldest's friend turned to me and asked "Are we at a wedding or something?" I laughed because by then I knew we were not at the right kind of Easter egg hunt. I gathered the kids and said "Let's step outside, I've gotta make a phone call." Smiling and apologizing, I led the kids back through the small crowd of people and out the front door, repeating my half-lie about the phone call to adults who gave me questioning looks.
I got the kids back in the car and did indeed call my wife, to let her know she had sent us to what looked like some kind of fundie cult. We both had a good laugh about it as I sped out of that lot and drove the kids to Dairy Queen instead. (Which, it turned out, was closed for Easter.
)
Every Easter egg hunt we've attended in the past, in multiple cities, has been at a public park, attended by normal people in casual clothes. People show up, an Emcee starts things off, and the kids look cute picking up eggs, then everyone goes home. Clearly, this was not that kind of an event!
Thanks for nothing, Ostara!
