Every Easter Sunday morning since First Born Mac was puny (pew-knee), there has been a rather loud and massive hunt for candy.

The Easter Bunny shows up in the wee small hours of the morning (on his way back to New Zealand) and leaves everyone’s favorites… Kit Kats, Twix, Double Bubble bubble gum…

But this year, Mac and Half Kid Jack are making their first “Easter Thanksgiving” in their apartment (they earned enough points for a free Turkey from their local grocery store so this has been in the works for weeks and weeks) and Sam had some gigs in New Orleans, and Alabama, and Texas (kid gets around) and doesn’t get much time off for Easter, so he stayed down there.

And Gabe.

The kid is turning out to be a problem.

Last Easter at home before college and he is on some strange fitness regime that includes a rather rigid diet.

Which includes nearly zero refined sugar.

Or soda.

Or pasta or bread or other white flour stuff.

Basically, we cut the cardboard from the back of our notebooks into pretty shapes, put them on a plate and call it his dinner…. and then he still complains about the carb to fat ratio.

So we add butter.

So the Easter Bunny had his work cut out for him this year because, when I faxed Gabe’s diet to him, he seemed confused.

“No Kit Kats?” he e-mailed later that day.

Nope.

“No mini Hershey Bars?” he replied.

Nope.

“Starburst?”

Uh Uh.

“Butter Fingers?”

Uh. Ya. Better bring the Butter fingers.

(what? Just in case of a sugar crash! (Fine. Mine, not his.))

So I was afraid that the Easter Bunny would throw up his paws and give up on us and then this would be the first Easter without any hunts for anything in, like, decades!

But, no way man.

That Bunny rocked it.

And so, I thought I would put together a little smattering of what Gabe Dingle, who woke up to a basket… filled with fingerling potatoes… got to hunt for this fine Easter morning.

That Bunny is Easter gold.

So there you have it.

Easter Bunny: 1, Gabe-Dingle-trying-to-foil-Easter-Bunny? ZERO!

And me?

I got up early, found every single Butter Finger and have stashed them away for later, when Gabe digs into his cardboard and butter.

Thanks for readin’.

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