Uncle Bobbys Hilarious Truths: Why Easter Egg Hunts are Chaotic Candy Capitalism
Dear Uncle Bobby –
Can you explain to me why we still do Easter egg hunts? Every year it turns into absolute chaos—kids fighting over eggs, plastic grass everywhere, and someone always ends up crying because they only found two eggs and one of them had raisins. How did this become tradition?
Eggs-traordinarily Confused,,
Boggled by the Bunny
Oh, Boggled, bless your heart for trying to apply logic to a holiday built around a giant bunny who breaks into your house to hide eggs laid by no known species of poultry. You want sense? Go celebrate Arbor Day.
Easter egg hunts are not about fun. They are a carefully disguised training exercise designed to teach children valuable life skills like sprinting through chaos, hoarding plastic, and emotionally recovering from injustice.
One kid finds 27 eggs?
Another finds 2 and a stick?
Welcome to life, sweetheart. This ain’t preschool anymore—it’s the Market Economy in miniature.
And those eggs? Half of them contain jelly beans that taste like flavored sand, the other half are empty because someone forgot to fill them, and one always has exactly 41 cents in change rattling around like a sad Vegas slot machine.
Meanwhile, the adults are just out there with red Solo cups and folding chairs, watching it unfold like “The Hunger Games: Pastel Edition.”
Now, if you really want to make it educational, Uncle Bobby’s got ideas:
- Put real tasks in the eggs. “Do your taxes.” “Call your grandmother.” “Google what Lent is.”
- Or just start hiding eggs for adults. But instead of candy, fill them with things we actually want: gas cards, expired coupons, tiny bottles of bourbon.
And the plastic grass? Oh, that’s not decoration. That’s a year-round flooring upgrade. You’ll be finding it in your carpet, your sock drawer, and somehow inside your dryer vent until at least September.
So yes, Boggled, we still do Easter egg hunts. Not because it makes sense—because it’s tradition. And nothing brings a family together like sugar-fueled chaos and the annual reminder that Timmy is faster, sneakier, and way too aggressive for a child in a seersucker vest.
Happy Good Friday. May your Easter Madness Weekend be filled with pastel chaos, mystery casseroles, and enough candy to spike a toddler’s blood sugar until Pentecost.
– Uncle Bobby