........ not drop the egg.
But only because I did not join the game. I do not not know if that is good news, or bad news, or a little of both. This year, the egg-catching contest had to be between husband's and wives. Richard was not present, so my candid take is that it actually was a graceful way out of predestined horror (on my daughter's part yet again) and perpetual embarrassment (on mine). Fate can be so kind, really. It IS nice to just be a spectator in an activity that tortured the memories for quite a bit. I saw many eggs break as the contest progressed; they looked beautiful against the green grass, lit dramatically and naturally as they were by the bright summer sun. That said, I was happy I took no part and did not contribute to that beauty, no matter how glorious and photo-worthy.
Let me just say that it was a lovely house we were welcomed into, with many absolutely beautiful things tastefully splattered all around. I did not take any photos, out of respect for the privacy of the owners, even if I wanted to. It was also a house I had heard so much about, because many moons ago and long before I was even born, it was owned by my grandmother's sister. My mom and her siblings have made many memories in that very same space.
I had fun in the yellow afternoon, playing games that left me sweaty and breathless, and feeling very much like a kid again where the only order of the day was play. The energy of the little ones is contagious and refreshing. And that is saying the very least. Oh to be so young, excited, and (thankfully) so carefree........
I do not want my little girl to grow up so fast. Her world now is so pure and joyful, the wonder years in its truest sense. At her age, you pretty much go where the wind blows. Why (and how) do adults stop being so spontaneous?
We were in the green team. We did our best. We finished last.
We blamed the loss cheerily on the fact that our clues (for the Amazing-Race-inspired main game of the event) were written on green paper and tucked into plants and bushes and little trees. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
This is what each family in our team went home with, tucked into a sturdy brown paper bag.
At midnight I had it as a snack, eating it the way my Dad taught me how when I was a little girl --- cut into discs, and drizzled with the golden flavor of honey. As far as fresh, ripe mangoes are concerned it is a hard habit to break.
The rest, our cook will likely mash and bake into banana choco-chip cupcakes we have perfected, the recipe of which I lifted from a recipe book I bought at random. I will share that wonderful recipe with you some time.
All in all I did.........have a very lovely time.