Reporters Notebook (Gettysburg Times - 040508): "Peter Cottontail"

During the annual Easter celebration at Grandma Mentzer’s house, the upper-level grandkids — four cousins who are above 20-years of age — were instructed to hunt eggs with the youth out in Grandma’s yard.
“There are two eggs for each of you,” Uncle Stan, director of Easter activities, told the four of us, “and your names are on them.”
Meanwhile, our dozen or so younger cousins scattered in every direction, hunting for their Easter treasures.
I hunted in vain — with sister Jamie, cousin Davey and cousin Meagan — for nearly 60 minutes, and neither of us found the so-called hidden eggs that were emblazoned with our names.
“It’s too cold for this,” said Jamie. “I’m going inside.”
The three of us followed, giving up on our search for the eight missing eggs.
As the family convened once again around the dining room table, and the four of us explained to Grandma that we were unable to find our eggs, Uncle Stan motioned for me to follow him.
He took me into a spare room, and pointed toward a sink that our eight eggs: two with each of our names. They were never hidden in the yard.
Uncle Stan held his finger up to his lips, signalling me to keep the shenanigan a secret.
The Easter Bunny sure pulled some cotton over our eyes.
~ Scot Andrew Pitzer