This weekend we decorated eggs at the cabin. I bought egg decorating kits a week after Easter last year, so they were like 90% off–37 cents per box to be exact. (Not to mention the Cadbury caramel eggs that were 15 cents each…just thinking about them makes my teeth ache…in a good way)
Usually I want my eggs to be beautiful, but this year I just decided to keep it real and low key and enjoy watching my kids make memories.
SO, being the perfect mommy that I am, I chose the cracked egg that no one else wanted to decorate.
Here’s the result.
Oh no, it’s not beautiful. I wasn’t able to take a cracked egg and work it into Fabergé-ean brilliance. This isn’t the fairy tale story by any means.
It’s more like my story. The story of someone seeing the cracked egg that no one else wanted and seeing potential in it. Even if it means using a little bit of creativity to bring some color and adding a tiny yellow mesh bag (usually for a slice of lemon to squeeze over fish while dis-allowing the seeds to be squeezed onto the food) to bring a smile–or even a sigh of pity–to the mind of the beholder.
Even if it was just laugh potential rather than rock-star styling, this poor yolk was still given a reason, a context, and a meaning rather than just pitched from the get-go.