When I still believed in an egg-toting rabbit, Easter was as exciting and magical as Christmas. After the somber observance of Good Friday, it was time to prepare for Easter Sunday, and that is when the fun began. Dad officiated over the eggdecorating melee. Amidst the splashing rainbow of colors and squabbling over who got to use the blue or pink next, he calmly monogrammed an egg for each of us using the tiny paraffin pencil that came in the box of dyes. Dad was not satisfied until each egg had steeped in the dye long enough for each name to appear in sharp relief
After that it was bath time, followed by the torture of Mom setting my hair in