My memory is probably faulty, but I seem to remember searching for Easter eggs and then having to eat all the hard-boiled eggs that we found. Easter evening turned into a surreal “Cool Hand Luke” scene with my brother screaming, “Nobody ever eat fifty eggs before” and me, lying catatonic on the ground, surrounded by dyed eggs shells, mumbling something about “anything so innocent and built like that just gotta be named Lucille." Kids have it easy today.
2 comments:
Those are some kickin' eggs there. Sorry; les oeuf. Oeufs? No idea.
I only ever had plastic eggs filled with sugary stuff. We colored eggs but those were just for decoration, not for "hunting".
Do they refrigerate eggs in the Parisian shops?
Good luck finding lollipops to cut the heads off of in Paris.
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