Family traditions are one of those things I agonise over. I am torn between the magic and comfort of traditions and our beliefs. As Atheists we have made a decision not to celebrate Christian festivals. So far it has been easy enough to do our own thing but as our children get older they are increasingly aware of what everyone else is celebrating. At Christmas time we have our own tradition of thankfulness, feasting and gift giving which begins with the Solstice and ends at the new year. Easter had just passed us by in a flurry of long trips to visit my grandmother, until this year. So when a very big kid wanted to go on an egg hunt we decided that the pre-Christian tradition of celebrating the arrival of Spring with gifts of eggs had a place in our family.
We woke in the morning to find that a very cheeky bunny had taken all of our eggs and so we set out to pursue him through the woods. The woods themselves were bursting with new life and the bluebell shoots were already sprouting all around. The sun was warm on our backs despite the chilly air. I finally feel like my body is coming out of its long post-natal hibernation. It seems like I have been sleepwalking for so long and suddenly I am awake and vital again. Before long we found evidence of our cotton tailed scoundrel who had left a trail through he trees.
Which led to a hollow in a clearing and a whole heap of Springtime chocolately goodness which was shared out between the hunters.
It was definitely a good choice, a little magic is the life blood of childhood.