From the moment that I first watched Steel Magnolias all those years ago, and gazed at the blush and bashful hues of Shelby’s wedding, I fell in love with those pastel dyed eggs (you know, the ones in the boot of the car that got crushed when…oh well, die-hard fans will know which ones I mean). I knew that at some point, I would have some in my life. It was going to happen. I would make it happen.
First though, I had to convince Dadda to buy me some white duck eggs from Waitrose, eggs that we wouldn’t actually eat (cue Dadda choking in disgust) but just paint, admire and throw away. After that hurdle was cleared (and I’m a terrible hurdler), I set about getting my coloured eggs on.
For those of you who’ve never done this before, it’s so surprisingly easy!
First though, you have to explode a few of your best blood vessels by blowing the eggs out. Whilst it’s true that you could hard boil them, with my luck I’d crack them in the pan and that would be an even worse waste of duck egg. I then figured that, should the eggs get thrown about somehow, I would much rather have an empty shelled egg-missile traveling at speed through the air than a hard boiled grenade. These are important considerations.
So, with huge darning needle in hand Momma pierced both ends of the eggs and wiggled the needle around inside each egg to break up theyolk. I then began the lengthy and disgusting process of blowing them out. It was NASTY.
Anyhow, after the icky, blood pressure raising part is over, the rest is a breeze…and the eggs are so pretty, white and porcelain like.
All that’s left to do is to fill cups with food colouring and water. I used my gel colourings since I have those in every colour of the rainbow and then some.
Tip: Use warm water, it makes the gel colouring dissolve easier.
After the initial set up, foolishly, we took the cups of colour and the eggs into the living room…Much to Baby Dragon’s delight, and Dadda’s horror. “It will be fiiiiine,” I assured him.
|The pretty, previously icky, eggs…|
Jensen sat patiently to wait…and then Baby Dragon realised there was liquid, beautiful liquid of many colours in them there cups. A Peppa Pig inspired quest to jump up and down in muddy rainbow puddles began…
…and so out we went again, back to the kitchen, to the tune of many incensed screams from a highly angry Dragon.
Feeling sorrowful for our littlest Easter participant, Momma had a brainwave.
By putting the liquid and the egg shell in the IKEA jar, Baby Dragon could shake, shake, shake his way to happiness whilst helping out. That’s just what he did. These jars, from Baby Dragon dropping height, bounce. Hoorah. There’s no denying he was still disgusted there was no pretty splashy fun, but he was happier at least.
The dyeing took quite some time, but at last we had pastel coloured duck eggs!
Again, here we go with the pretty, untouched-by-toddler-or-baby-hand photos. Just because it looked pretty before we began.
There were pom poms, glue and stickers all ready for the pretty little rainbow eggs.
There were also my much loved ribbon chair garlands. I am so proud of how sweet these look.
Anyway, back to the decorating. The scene was set. The eggs were coloured and dyed. Then Baby Dragon fell asleep.
Our Little Adventurer set to work. He seems so grown up. My heart hurts.
There was much concentration on the face of Jensen Indiana.
Then Momma suggested a little beverage. Orange. Hot. Chocolate. Momma’s naughty drink of choice. Served in little mouse-paw print cups, it’s even more delicious.
Someone else LOVED it too. He loved the chocolate ‘stache that he gained even more.
|“Rook! I have hot chocorate, just rike you!”|
|Just like Dadda…|
This hot chocolate business has now become our afternoon ritual. Baby Dragon naps, Momma and Jensen Indiana break out the Options. We’re got a “thing”. Our thing. Chocolate, orange and giant cups of love.
Back to the egg decorating, I was reminded of how amazing his memory is.
We saw a Looney Tunes cartoon a few weeks ago with Wile E. Coyote in and I happened to mention to him that my Grandad, my Mum’s Dad, loved him because he was so silly. I realised how much he hears. He listens when I speak, and I love that. No, not to the “please stop that” or the “can you just…” but he really listens. When it matters, when it comes from the heart, he’s all ears. And he never forgets it seems.
So this egg was for Grandad Griffin, up in the sky. An amazing, loving, intensely loved man.
Momma managed to make herself an egg too. It looks demure here, but soon the rainbow crazies hit this baby.
Someone was keen to join in, and in Fantastic Mr. Fox style, he was all about the eggs.
And so an afternoon of sticking and peeling and resticking began. This activity has now been written into the big book of Jones Family traditions. Thank you, American friends! Photos of our eggs, coming up…