We spent the weekend at Grammy and Dad-Dad’s. The days were wonderful, the weather glorious, and I took oodles of pictures. Here, the big girls commence their Saturday morning egg art. In pajamas of course.
While her big sisters are hard at work, Little Girl works too. She digs through cabinets and checks out Grammy’s collection of placemats.
Soon, we have color. The eggs are covered. And so are little fingers.
Little Girl plopped in the grass. And happy as can be.
The big girls play soccer. Husband and I are quite amazed at their skills. I am thankful that despite their flowing locks and dresses, I see my tomboy self in them: they are tough as nails, taking each other out, tumbling, smiling through it all.
Big Girl moves on to baseball. Aunt J pitches to her and she connects bat to ball over and over. Again, we are surprised and delighted. This girl’s got skills.
There is some super fancy scooting in the driveway.
Our tiniest crawls along the paved path in the front of the house. She concludes, and swiftly, that she’s a fan of dirt. She grabs fistfuls, throws them, and pours some soil in her scalp.
She finds more dirt in a flower pot, takes some, and has a little taste. The resulting dirt goatee is priceless.
Before bed Saturday night, our trio plays for us. I don’t think I will forget this; the three of them lined up, pounding away.
Sunday morning loot. The Easter Bunny indeed paid a visit.
Little Girl samples her first Peep circa 7:01am. She likes it.
The big girls pause between the indoor hunt and the outdoor hunt.
This yellow egg is plastic, and full of candy.
This blue egg, also plastic, was once full of candy, but the squirrels (or groundhog?) found it first. Unfortunately, approximately 80% of the outdoor eggs have suffered a similar fate. Note to Bunny for Easter 2013: Do not hide the eggs the night before.
Big Girl samples something sweet as she seeks.
Daddy totes the tiniest. She looks around and around, watching her sisters, taking it all in. One day, babe, one day.
Egg hunt over, the girls gather on the ground and sort through their bounty.
Before Easter lunch, we put the girls in Easter dresses. Grammy treats the big ones to French braids.
On the lawn, they scamper about in the sun.
They hold hands.
They humor me. My desire to capture them, these. These moments.
And this? This is my very favorite of the bunch. How can it not be? My three creatures, huddled together, a portrait of sisterhood, of life, of love.
I look at this image, all of these images, and already I’m nostalgic. How can this be? I took these photos just days ago. Maybe it’s because I know. I know that time will do its thing, marching on, oblivious, utterly oblivious, to my desire for it to slow. I know that one day, and one day soon, I will look back and say it to Husband as we sit somewhere alone, somewhere civilized, quiet: Remember that Easter when the girls were so young and the squirrels ate all the candy? Remember how tired we were, but also how happy?
Did you celebrate Easter or Passover this weekend? Do you ever stop to realize that this time will flee, and fast, and that you will be left looking back? Do you think it is possible to be nostalgic about moments that are not yet truly in the past?