April 22, 2011

Dyeing Easter Eggs is Tough on Dads

Dyeing Easter eggs is the worst. There, I said it. Carving pumpkins is fun. Decorating the Christmas tree is a jolly good time. Watching 4th of July fireworks light up the sky is something I could do every night, especially when two go off next to each other and look like giant boobs.

But dyeing Easter eggs is beyond awful. It was invented by grandparents who looked at their own kids and said, "Now that you are parents, how can we really stick it to you? I know! We'll make you sit through an incredibly boring activity that will likely stain your carpet and, to top it off, will leave you with about 47 dozen hard-boiled eggs to stink up your fridge! Oh, and in the coming week we'll load your kids up with massive amounts of candy! Enjoy!"

Of course, a simple "Thank you for giving me the gift of grandkids" would have sufficed.

Anyway, dyeing Easter eggs isn't even the worst part of dying Easter eggs. The worst part is that it's a terrible reminder that my wife is superior to me. (I can't believe I actually put that in writing.) Sure, I'm better at a lot of fun things like scrabble, balancing 401ks and peeing standing up. But she dominates me in the Egg Dyeing Department. Turns out, coloring eggs requires a certain skill-set that I don't have and, no matter how hard I try, will never be able to gain—much like dunking a basketball or asking for directions when lost. These skills include:

1. Patience
Dyeing Easter eggs is a slow, painful process where you put an egg in a cup and just let it sit there. And you wait. And wait. And wait some more. You take it out to check it and it's turned a slight shade pink. Only 2 more hours and it'll be red. You know how there's the saying "A watched pot never boils"? We'll there's a similar saying for this occasion: "A watched egg kills your will to live."

2. Nose Control
One of the key ingredients in the dye is vinegar, which smells about as pleasant as a dirty diaper.  Even better, that smell lingers for hours after you dye the eggs. It's the one time of the year I'm actually rooting for a sinus infection.

3. Spill Control
Your kids have elbows, right? So do mine. And their elbows suffer from Spontaneous Wild Elbow Syndrome. It's a condition recognized by the American Medical Association where a kid's usually restful elbows detect something spillable nearby and immediately start to swing uncontrollably. Common elements that trigger Spontaneous Wild Elbow Syndrome include uncovered 2-liters, bowls of spaghetti, yogurt containers, laptops sitting anywhere other than out-of-reach and (especially) cups with colored dye in them. To combat this while egg dying, you must be swift with a paper towel. I don't even know what a paper towel is. Epic fail.

4. Egg Control.
You'd think hard-boiled eggs wouldn't crack. You'd also think that you look good in jorts. On both fronts, you couldn't be more wrong. (I know—I was shocked too!) Egg-dying kits come with tiny, microscopic metal-wire holders designed by professional engineers to drop your eggs over and over again. No matter how hard you try, you will crack 74% of the eggs in the process, causing you to buy—and hard boil—a lot more eggs. I'm convinced there's a conspiracy going on and the United Egg Producers of America are behind it. Either way, my hands aren't soft and I'm clumsy.

5. More patience.
I've never been one to have patience of any kind. I get angry when my Internet takes more than 0.2 sections to load. I get upset when my wife takes 35 minutes to decide what we are going to make for dinner. I can't even text people because if they don't respond immediately I start to freak out (of course, my sister will point out it takes me nearly 5 hours to respond to a text, but she fails to recognize that I'm not concerned with her patience).  The point is, as a Dad you must force yourself to develop patience for your kids and for the activities that they love—including the 1% of activities that are practically unbearable.

I may not like dyeing Easter eggs, but I love the smiles and memories it creates for my kids. I love that they look forward to it every year. I also love that my wife is good at it (thanks to her possessing all five skills mentioned above). But mostly I love that even dull activities like this one become amazing memories that I'll cherish for the rest of my life.

Much like I cherish boob fireworks.


*****
* Subscribe to The Life of Dad via email or RSS feed!
* Also, follow me on Twitter @BrianKlems. I promise to occasionally say funny things.

9 comments:

jennifer said...

i think i still suffer from Spontaneous Wild Elbow Syndrome

jennifer said...

ps...jorts...omg...hysterical & disgusting!

Liz said...

i might have nightmares tonight because of the jorts...thanks.

Will said...

boobs

Amanda Hoving said...

Will basically said everything that I was going to say.

Dale said...

jorts - why men should not dress themselves.

Olivia said...

Brian,
Just thought I'd let you know just how ridiculously much I LOVE your blog...you're seriously the funniest, most relatable writer I've ever read, (this is no joke!) Your posts never fail to crack me up and I absolutely love your good sense of humor. Your girls are so lucky to have a dad like you! Keep up the blogging; your posts truly makes my day!

Juliann Wetz said...

Hilarious!! I loved this post. I laughed all the way through it, but laughed hardest at 'boob fireworks.' I'll never be able to watch fireworks again without thinking of that. Thanks a lot. :)

John said...

The United Egg Producers is a discredited trade organization with a sordid history of consumer fraud and animal cruelty. The “UEP Certified” program allows hens to be confined in cages that provide each animal less space than a sheet of paper to spend her life. More at www.humanesociety.org/uep