My mom and I used to buy various Easter candy and toys, then fill empty, plastic eggs with those things, and then sneak into the yards of our neighbors on Easter Eve and hide the eggs for their kids. My mom would tell them in advance that we would be doing that, so it wasn’t alarming to see us lurking around in their yard at night. I laugh now at the thought of sneaking around and then having car headlights hit us, our eyes blinking and wide open like deer, trying to act casual. It wasn’t like we were stealing stuff, we were giving things instead. My mom would have to “shoosh” me several times because of my giggling fits. The next reward would come the next day when the kids would have fun looking for the eggs and find the treasures inside.
Eventually we moved from that lovely street (and I miss that little street) and my mom and I made friends with our new neighbors who had a little kid. I made a few extra bucks by babysitting the kid when his parents would go out from time to time. I never figured out their remote, and the TV was all I had after the kid was put to bed and I had to wait for the parents to return.
Anyway, our neighbors eventually moved out but just down the street and still kept in touch with us. During one Easter season, my mom tried to prep the mother that we’d be lurking around in their yard, hiding eggs for their son. She approved at the time, but then soon forgot. Her husband has a temper and I’ve seen him charge kids before for vandalizing property or whatever else rambunctious kids can do from time to time.
So on one particular Easter Eve, my mom parked the car near their house on an unusually perfect, April night. We didn’t know the wife had forgotten and her son was at the window with the curtains pulled wide open. I wish we had a cellphone back then to straighten out the mess, but we did not. Since the wife had forgotten we’d be visiting their yard, the husband didn’t know either. He was visiting the neighbor’s house, saw a “stranger” (me) creep across their yard and he hurried across the street.
He shouted angrily, “HEY!!” I was terrified as I heard his aggressive footsteps. I crouched behind their pool and imagined the worst (probably brought on only by watching too many movies): a sawed -off shotgun (or really just any gun) in his hand, hunting me down. Thankfully, he noticed that my mom was parked nearby, she called to him, he put everything together in his head and by talking to my mom. I came out of hiding (my heart beating against the inside of my chest so hard I could’ve recorded the sound effect) and he apologized to me while laughing.
It took me a very long time to be able to laugh at the situation. My mom, not so much. She laughed within seconds of the situation. But now I can’t help it. Such intrigue. I felt like I was dodging bullets. I did some impressive dodging, I don’t mind confessing.
It was fun to blog about this, I can laugh at it now, especially the drama of it all.