Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays. Very little pressure and prep time, unlike Thanksgiving and Christmas. And much calmer and less dangerous than 4th of July. (Fireworks + Boys = Spastic Mom)
This year I had to be reminded the previous Sunday that it was actually one week away. Gone are the days of dying eggs, filling baskets and the obligatory new Easter clothes. So sad. 'Cause I really got into dressing my sons--until they finally dug in and said, "ENOUGH!"
Judging by the 2 missing teeth, I'd say Jeff was about 6. Never a clothes horse, he would still appease me most of the time. Like most great photographers I made sure to have the perfect background. The Zenith console tv, right? The Hardee's beverage cup. Wait! We never had the money to eat out. Oh yeah, I see my dad in the background. That explains it.
So that would make Jeremy about 8. And apparently the Don Johnson look was in vogue. He's been very particular about his clothes ever since. Trista--you can thank me--or blame me--whatever.
I spent Easter weekend with my mate. On the Gulf Coast. It was warm. It was relaxing. And he cooked for me when we didn't eat out. Perfect.
