I recently revealed my criminal past, but I didn’t tell you about ALL of my nefarious doings as a kid. With Easter approaching I think it is time I finally admit that, as a first grader, I fixed my elementary school’s Easter Egg Hunt. Oh, and I had an accomplice… my Mom!

My  elementary school was obsessed with Easter. This makes sense considering it was a Catholic School, but looking back it seems like they were more concerned with giant bunnies and chocolate eggs than Jesus. One example of this was the fuss they made over their annual Easter Egg Hunt. It was big time. Teachers and parents labored for hours hiding hundreds of eggs all over the school’s expansive playground.

Every kid’s fantasy come true, right?

Well, not for me.  My first Easter at the school I returned to my kindergarten class with only one egg. The kid next to me, Bert, pointed at my near empty basket and let out a “Ha-ha!” that Nelson from “The Simpsons” would envy.

As Easter grew close the next year Bert started to mock my poor haul the previous year on a daily basis.

“Hey, Mike,” Bert would yell loud enough for the whole class to hear. “Gonna get more than one stinkin’ egg this year?”

This, of course, set my classmates off on a laughing jag. I started to dread the upcoming Easter Egg Hunt…until the phone rang at home one night.

“Mrs. Spohr,” I could hear the school secretary say through the receiver. “Would you be able to help hide eggs for this year’s Easter Egg Hunt?”

My mind started racing. Soon it occurred to me just what I had to do – I had to fix the Easter Egg Hunt. I told my Mom my idea, and while at first she wouldn’t agree to help me pull off this tyke version of “Oceans’ 11,” she finally relented after i stuck out my lower lip and begged “Pwwwease?” like a baby.

I then raced to my room to prepare. This would be a tough operation.  One misstep and the whole thing would fall apart.

I pulled out my crayons and drawing paper and drew an elaborate map of the playground. I then spread it across the kitchen table after dinner and pointed to a big tree against the far wall.

“This tree,” I told my Mom as I circled the tree with my red crayon. “Hide the eggs here. As many as you possibly can!”

The big day came and Bert insulted me more than ever. I just let his words roll off my back though until I finally said, “You know what, Bert? Something tells me things are going to be a little different this year.”

Soon I lined up next to Bert and the other kids waiting for the principal to signal the start of the hunt. As we waited I saw my mom peering through the fence at me with the other moms. We met eyes. She nodded. I knew it was on.

The Principal blew his air horn. I smiled.

“Suck it, Bert.”

I sprinted toward the big tree against the far wall, laughing giddily all the way, but upon arriving my heart sank. There were… no eggs! I spun around, frantically searching for my golden stash of illicit eggs, but still… nothing.

Sweat beaded on my forehead. I looked back and saw my school mates picking up egg after egg at a frenetic pace. I was freaking out. Suddenly…


I spun to my Mom who pointed to another tree in the yard, the second largest one. I gasped and turned in time to see none other than Bert peeking behind it.

“HOLY CANNOLI!!!!” Bert screamed. “LOOK AT ALL THESE EGGS!!”

A few minutes later, as I slumped off the playground, Bert saddled up next to me with his basket brimming with my eggs.

“Now that is just sad,” he said as he peered into my empty basket. He then let out yet another Nelson-esque “Ha-ha!”

So there you have it, folks. Crime doesn’t pay. Still, if in a few years Annie asks me to help her fix an Easter Egg Hunt, I gotta say I will be all in.

But I’ll be sure to study her map a little more closely.