Easter Eggs

At my little country school, our parents get together and have an Easter Egg Hunt on our playground for any kids that want to play.  The eggs have a little candy or cheap toy in them, and the kids love it.  Even my older 6th graders love to do it. 

The kids get a little too excited sometimes, as any teacher will tell you.  So before they came to get my class to go hunt eggs, I sat them down for a quick talk.  I told them that they had to set the example for the school and that they needed to really behave and mind well so that we could get everthing done and we needed their help to make everything work, and so forth and so on.

One of the last things I said was about how the parents had spent so much time and effort and money to make this happen so they should be appreciative.

One of my little girls raised her hand and I called on her.  She started telling us, "Man, my parents are cheapskates.  When I was little, they used to hide rocks for us to find." 

At this point, I'm about to pop.  That's funny.  And sad.  Mostly funny, especially if you could see this kid's face.  She was thrilled that she had a funny story to tell.

She continues, "And we had to find just the right size rock, or we didn't get no prize."

Wait a minute.  I had to ask.  "So they made you hunt for rocks, but they bought prizes?" I asked.  "What were the prizes?"

"Bigger rocks."

I was done with questions.  It was my fault.  I asked.  I should have known better, but I asked anyway.  And now I couldn't breathe.