Happy freakin' Easter!

This morning I drove Daisy over to her aunt's apartment here in San Francisco. Her aunt is familiar with my satirical approach to holidays (hello Winter Present Tree Day!), so she has taken it upon herself to provide Daisy with an old-fashioned Easter egg hunt. Of course this egg hunt was done San Francisco style, so instead of hiding eggs in big lush gardens, I think she hid one in her incense box, one in her guitar, one in her ironic t-shirt drawer, one in her hemp bag of organic whole-grain quinoa, and the rest in politically correct locations that don't contribute to global warming. It's how we roll here on the Left Coast.

On the way over to her aunt's place, Daisy and I had this conversation:

Daisy: Daddy, do you want to know how I picked out this Easter basket?
Me: Uh, sure.
Daisy: Well, I liked the pretty color and the cute little bunnies on it. There was another one with little baby chicks, but what do chicks have to do with Easter?
Me: Heck, what do bunnies have to do with Easter either?
Daisy: The Easter BUNNY!
Me: The holiday isn't really about the Easter Bunny. It's about Jesus. It celebrates his birth... no, wait, that's Christmas. Dang. Is it his death that they're celebrating? That doesn't make any sense. That may be Good Friday although I don't get what's so good about his death. I think maybe Easter is about when he recovered from death. That was one of his superpowers, kind of like Claire on Heroes.
Daisy: Uh huh.
Me: Anyway, the point is that it's another Jesus holiday, like Christmas. So, maybe we ought to come up with our own version so that we can celebrate it too. How does that sound?
Daisy: That's a great idea!
Me: What should we call it?
Daisy: Hmmmm. Egg day? Or maybe Spring Egg Day?
Me: I like Spring Egg Day! That's very descriptive. I vote for that name. Happy Spring Egg Day, Daisy!
Daisy: Happy Spring Egg Day, Daddy!

And that's how I cemented my place in Hell. Happy Spring Egg Day everyone!