Last Sunday I decided to have an Easter Egg Hunt for all ages of “kids” in my immediate family on what I call the South 40, although it’s technically west of the main house. That’s the back yard of the house we currently live in which is situated on a half acre. I bought a bucket of 50 plastic eggs and spent a good portion of Easter morning filling them with change and five jelly beans each. The amount in each egg ranged from two cents, to a golden egg that had a twenty-dollar bill. Like I said, each plastic egg contained exactly five jelly beans. Not any real reason for the five beans, except that it seemed to be the right amount to put in the egg, and I had no idea what a faux pa I was committing at the time. The “kids” ranged in age from eight to thirty-nine.
The idea for the “All Ages Easter Egg Hunt” came from one of my daughters who said she wanted to hunt for Easter eggs because she hadn’t done it in a long time. Like maybe thirty years. The rules were simple. Some of the eggs were hidden fairly visible and obviously intended for the younger hunters. The idea for the older hunters was that there wasn’t going to be a big “score” in the easily found eggs. The golden egg with the twenty, or the harder to find eggs with pictures of other dead presidents enclosed, should be their mission. The only problem with that theory was I didn’t really pay attention to what was in the eggs when I hid them, easy to find or otherwise. Except for the golden egg. I hid that where I was sure no one would easily find it. None of the eggs were buried, and there weren’t going to be any hints. Thems the rules.
After about an hour or so of hunting there still remains in the South 40 around six eggs that have still not been found. I have no idea where I hid them now, and expect to find them sometime later in the year. At least they weren’t real eggs, which will make them no easier to find, but more aware that they are hidden somewhere when they start to decay.
One young hunter had raked it in. He was sitting by the fireplace counting his money, and piling the jelly beans separate from the coin and bills. When my older daughter grabbed a jelly bean and popped it in her mouth from the pile, the younger egg hunter said something to her that almost made her choke.
She came out to the patio where we were sitting and walked up to his mother, her sister, and said, “Do you know what your son just said to me? I was eating a jelly bean from one of his eggs and he said…”
The other sister finished her sentence, “…not to eat them because they’ve been in stripper’s panties.” The rest of us almost choked on our drinks.
Well, technically, the jelly bean hadn’t been there, but the idea was that it was “touching” a dollar bill which possibly could have been stuffed in a stripper’s panties, or so she explained. When my granddaughter was younger she was smelling money, and my daughter, totally aghast that she would put that near her nose, came out with the only horrible thing she could think of. “Don’t do that. Do you know where that money has been? It’s been in a stripper’s panties.”
Her children now think that all money is passed through the panties of strippers, and knowing full well that neither of them have been to a strip club, I wonder, truly wonder, what mental images these two youngsters have that keeps them from eating a jelly bean that might have touched a quarter or a dollar bill in a plastic egg.
I was told by my mother, at a very early age, that it wasn’t a good idea to put coins in your mouth. I don’t remember what horrible place the money may have been before it came into my possession, but I know she never said it might have come from the panties of a stripper. Whatever it was, I never put money in my mouth again, although I’m sure she was more worried about the choking hazard than the “germs.”
Obviously, germs can get on money. I read where some viral strains can live up to ten days on a bill. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it makes sense that someone with the flu could touch money, infect it and if you put it to your nose to smell it, you might, if you’re immune system is down, get the flu. I don’t know what you might catch from a stripper’s panties, that could survive on a bill. Maybe it’s all about worrying more about the guy that gave it to her, but then you never know.
Personally, I love the smell of money. I’m going to think twice about putting anything less than a hundred under my nose though. I don’t have hundreds very often myself, and I’m pretty sure it would be rare for someone to part with one by putting it in a g-string. But it could happen, I guess.
I’m pretty sure though, if I have an “All Ages Easter Egg Hunt” next year, I’m not going to waste my jelly beans.