A Post about Eggs Before We had Chickens

Here is a post from eight years ago.  My son had a fascination with eggs.  I should’ve known back then I had chickens in my future, except my husband bought the chickens.  Not my son.  I’ve combined two posts here because I used to write much shorter posts.  And I feel like the first paragraph leaves you wondering what happens next.

Eggs

My son loves eggs. He doesn’t love to eat them; he loves to carry them around. He doesn’t carry one; he carries the whole carton. He carries it like one would carry a baby. Occasionally he opens up the carton and takes one out and walks around with it and then puts it back in. We often try to hard boil the eggs we give him, but I took him to the grocery store today and he has been carrying a carton of eggs since then. I’m not sure what this means. I don’t remember covering this in any child development classes I took. I’m pretty sure I did not learn about this while learning about children acquiring language.

So now I need to go back to the store and buy some more eggs because I don’t think I will get these back. Right now they are all in baby wipes to keep them clean.
If anyone knows what egg obsession means, please let me know… (And for all of you Freudians out there, he is only 2 so don’t even think it deals with sex.) (And I already know it is his parents’ fault so you don’t have to give me that reason either…)

Where We Found the Eggs

Where we have found eggs:
My tennis shoe
In the laundry
In Katherine’s pj top
In Kevin’s coat pocket
Under the sofa
In the garbage
In the bathroom
Under wet wipes around the house

Where we have not found eggs:
The refrigerator

author
Marianne Hansen

I am a humor writer, wife of a dentist, mother of 3 and purchaser of shoes. I have a JD from U of Iowa, and an MA and a BA from BYU, but I’m still trying to convince my family I know what I’m talking about. When not writing or watching bad television, I can be found answering the question: “What would happen if I…”

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