My son's most frequent complaint is that he never has the supplies he needs for his inventions. "Supplies" generally refers to the contraband in his dad's office drawers: the sharp-toothed staple remover, binder clips strong enough to snap a child's fingers, chokeable rubber bands and a variety of paperclips. Any two of these items in combination with a pad of Post-It Notes can entertain him for an hour, minimum.
Since this will be our last Easter without a little one underfoot, the Bunny had
a lightbulb moment. Instead of candy, the plastic eggs would be filled with
pastel paperclips and vivid rubber bands.
I held my breath when the first egg was cracked this morning. "Just what I needed! More supplies!" he screamed in delight.
Before I could let out a sigh of relief, he had slipped a pair of rubber bands on the Easter basket handle and was busy strumming a tune on his self-titled "egg-strument."
Yes, my son has inherited my love of bad puns and cheap playthings. If only every holiday could be this easy...