Sunday, April 20, 2003:
Easter Sunday. At home we have our always successful chocolate eggs in the living room hunt. I think we always hide them in the same places. This year’s exciting innovation was to short out a temporarily bulbless lamp by dropping a foil encased egg right onto the socket’s contact points.
Jessica and the Lamberts and JJ and Erica and Greg come over. They hide the decorated Easter eggs in the back yard. Again, as usual, joyful and harmonious search and finds ensue. I film it, and really enjoy the naturally emerging spatial and visual patterns that emerge so naturally. Intersecting planes of action, the shifts of front and middle and back, the thrill of off screen space, which is only that things come and go and are pretty well always interesting.
After eats everyone plays whiffleball. Caitlin and Drew are awful. They’re both poor sports in their own special ways. Greg (never one to let up with the little ones) screams a line drive right into pitching Sarah’s middle. She reaches quickly down and flings the ball, hitting Greg square in the back of the head. All rejoice. Greg too.
The boys sit in the sandbox all the while. Spence provides droll commentary. Matt just thinks the world is glorious, which, to a sweet child like him, is basically true. After the guests depart Sharon gives a very effective sportsmanship talk. The pertinent parties listen respectfully.
I’ve a picture of little Claire through these days, that exquisitely turned little face and body on the swing, which her siblings kindly push, and all smiling sweetly together.