Michael must have slept well last night.
At midnight his sister woke up but didn’t drag him out of his room. Instead, she knocked on our door. I was blissfully unaware of all of this; my wife told me about it later, how sister was having trouble sleeping. I didn’t actually find out what it was that my wife used to put said sister back to sleep, but it worked. And Michael’s slumbers went on undisturbed.
So this morning he got up extra early.
I happened to be heading out of our bedroom when I heard the unmistakable sound of Michael hurriedly galloping downstairs and thumping around in the family room.
When I got there, I called out “Michael, what are you doing up so early? There’s nobody down here yet.”
I saw him poking around over by the fireplace, looking in the bookcase and under the couch.
He turned and looked at me sadly.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I want to find eggs,” he said very plaintively.
The poor little guy had decided that it was time for Easter again, and that if he got up early enough he’d find more eggs.
“Michael, Easter was two Sundays ago. You’ll have to wait until next year to find eggs.”
“But I want to,” he said sadly.
I offered him some sausage and cereal instead. He was good with that.
Maybe I’ll hide a few eggs this weekend, just for old times sake.