If I don’t watch my weight, I’ll balloon like a Zeppelin. So I asked my wife to please go light this year. Don’t buy the chocolate eggs.
Her face dropped. I sensed something was wrong. “W-well, I may have already bought them,” she sheepishly admitted.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I sighed with resignation. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat them.”
Sure enough, on Easter Sunday morning, there waiting for me on the kitchen counter were some Peeps Marshmallow Chicks, a bag of Brach’s Classic Jelly Bird Eggs, and a 10 ounce bag of Hershey’s Milk Chocolate Eggs.
I decided the chocolate eggs must be eaten first, as the weather was getting warm, and they were in danger of becoming a melted, gooey mess. But I must watch my calories. So I announced to my wife that I would only be eating five chocolate eggs per day.
According to the nutritional information on the package, a serving size of five eggs contains 140 calories, and there are 10 servings in the bag. So I calculated that I could safely finish this bag in 10 days, at five eggs per day, without gaining weight.
I ate my first five eggs on April 21st. So I anticipated my last five eggs would be consumed on April 30th. And I very much looked forward to chomping on those Peeps Marshmallow Chicks on May 1st, after the chocolate eggs were conquered.
But along about April 28th, I sensed something was amiss.
My bag of chocolate eggs was still about half full. This was not right. The math didn’t calculate. There should only be 10 eggs left in the bag, but there appeared to be about 25 or 30. Was this bag magical?
On April 30th I put my bag on a food scale. It weighed 4.4 ounces. That meant there were still about 22 eggs left in the bag, when there should be zero. Could the factory have made a mistake, and put too many eggs in the bag?
Or was this bag really magical?
The thought of a magical bag of chocolate eggs captured my imagination. I felt a frisson when I wondered what sort of deity might be favoring me, by spontaneously generating free chocolate eggs and implanting them in my bag. Could there really be an Easter Bunny after all? Or am I favored by some other Cosmic Power? Perhaps a unicorn?
I decided to start eating seven eggs per day, rather than five, to see if that would make the bag decrease in weight. But every day it hovered right around 4.4 ounces. Amazing.
My wife would think I was crazy if I told her about this, so I waited for the right time, and the right way to reveal my supernatural discovery.
One afternoon we were sitting together in quiet, relaxed reverie. It was a tender moment when guards came down and vulnerabilities could be exposed. I was searching my mind for the right words, when she decided to share something with me first.
“Have you noticed anything unusual over the past week or so?” she ventured.
My antennas came up. I felt suspicious. “Like what?” I asked.
“I have something to confess to you. I hate it that you’re so skinny and I’m so fat. So I bought you two bags of chocolate eggs for Easter, not one. The other is Hershey’s Big Bag. 18 ounces. Every day I’ve been sneaking eggs from that Big Bag into your regular size chocolate egg bag.”
“Ohhh? Well I HAVE noticed that my bag stays the same weight. I figured it was you.” Okay, so maybe I fibbed a little, but the possibility of it being her did fleetingly cross my mind. Once.
“I’m sorry, it’s not right for me to do that. This was a bad April Fool’s joke, and I didn’t even fool you. You can get mad at me if you want. But I hope you’ll forgive me.”
We kissed and hugged, and I forgave her.
How could I not forgive her? She stepped up, admitted her crime, and was willing to accept the consequences. This is responsibility. This is maturity. She did the adult thing.
Most importantly, I’m sure glad she came clean when she did, right before I was about to brag about my magic bag of chocolate eggs.