Hi, there,
Oh, I remember dying Easter eggs when I was little and creating, in my humble opinion at that age, an amazing assemble of artistic imagery, especially in something edible. When my brother and I went upstairs at night to our bunk beds, our Mother would hide them throughout the house in various sneaky locations. Unbeknownst to her, our dog, a big Belgian Shepard, was observing her place these delicious, colorful eggs in easy to reach, accessible spots. The dog marked the locations and remembered.
Lo and behold, when morning arrived and the hunt commenced, my brother and I noticed how difficult it was in finding the eggs that she hid. She was getting much better at hiding them, we thought. We only found a couple in some very high hiding spots, but the egg carton, that we placed the found eggs back in, was relatively empty.
"Mom," we asked. "Where'd you hide the eggs?"
She joined us in the search, but was extremely baffled as to where the easy-to-find eggs could've gone. I think she even went as far as blaming my father to some kind of treachery. He just responded with an incredulous, tired look on his face and went back to his morning coffee and the newspaper.
The dog, who was usually very chipper and excited to see us in the morning, layed quietly sleeping in the corner. Egg shells were dispersed around the dog's over-stuffed body.
The hunt was over. At least we had milk chocolate bunnies to feast on.
What will you have this Easter?
Maybe we can help.
Come in and let us hand you a bottle that will make you smile.
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