The day little Noah had been looking forward to for weeks had finally come: the big Easter egg hunt.
My little six-year-old brother means the world to me. So naturally, after being assigned to take photographs at this year's Dairygold Easter egg hunt, I invited my little buddy along. It was his turn to hunt, and there were well over 200 youngsters in his age category.
Mid-egg hunt I caught his attention and noticed he had only collected one egg. He looked a bit flustered and about to cry. After the crazy rush for eggs was over, I saw him staggering away seemingly distraught. Again, I caught his attention and didn't like the look on his face. He was crying, profusely. After glancing down in his basket, I noticed his only egg was gone.
He proceeded to tell me, through sobs, that another child in the mix nabbed his only egg right out of the basket.
What do you do when the child that means the world to you feels helpless and destroyed? I wanted to find the child's parent and let them know what happened. If it were my little buddy who stole an egg, you can best believe he'd be returning that egg and then some.
After realizing I wasn't going to find the culprit's parents, I went to one of the organizers. As it happens, there were several children who weren't able to gather any eggs in the mad rush. So, with the organizer's permission, the Sunnyside princesses distributed a few eggs for the children to gather. That cheered my little buddy up, but I was still very upset.
It may be a bit unfair for accusations, because of the flooding of children and the lack of visibility at times due to the large crowd. But I wonder; where were the parents in all of this? What kind of household teaches a child that it's ok to do something like that?
Moreover, the evening before the big hunt, I visited a local arcade. There, my phone was stolen right out of my purse. Again, I wonder, where are these youngsters' parents? It's very sad to see.