“We’re going to Easter!” was what Emma squealed as we piled into the car and headed to church on Sunday. She was quite excited thanks to all the talk of eggs, bunnies and, of course, ducks over the past few days.
She was a perfect lady during the service at Santa Margarita UMC, reading along in the hymnal and snoozing during the sermon, just like all of the adults. She even knew the secret fourth verse in “Up From The Grave He Arose” which goes:
Duck duckie duck duck caaaaar!
Duck car, car, duck car car.
House duck car duck duck car duck duck,
Duck car car duck duckie caaaar!
Grandpa Northcutt was in town on a business trip, so we were able to spend Easter together for the first time since 1995. He went on his first Easter egg hunt in probably twice that long, hiding eggs for Emma. (Henry didn’t participate.)
I’m really floored by how much she’s changed since last year. She still looked a little like a baby last Easter, but she’s lost most of that now and is a little girl. Sniff… sniff…
Speaking of the passing of time… do you see a resemblance here?
My mother brought along this picture on her last visit, taken when I was a few months old in 1973.
I didn’t feel this way with Emma, though I’m sure Marla did – see the evidence here, but I often get the really weird feeling with Henry that I’m looking at myself when I was a baby. I suppose that’s normal for any parent, but it’s a first for me.