When my parents promised me and my sisters an Easter egg hunt until we were no longer the “kids” of the family, I doubt they had any idea that we would be the “kids” of the family for this long.

My sisters and I love a good Easter egg hunt, but because all egg hunts are for “children only,” my mom and dad are forced to hide the eggs (well they don’t really do it, the Easter Bunny does.)

Every year we ask ourselves “are we too old for this?”

My mother thinks we are all a little crazy and we need to “grow up.’ On the other hand, my father, who still thinks we need training wheels, says there is nothing wrong with hiding more than 100 plastic eggs filled with candy around the family living room for his three little girls. “Who is going to get the bonus egg this year?” he says with pure anticipating in his voice.

The “bonus egg” has money in it and depending on if my dad has had a lucrative year or not, the “bonus egg” can either buy a Happy Meal or fill a gas tank. My youngest sister who has a nose for money, has been winning the bonus egg since she was in diapers. I remember the first time she won it. I protested. “She doesn’t even know what to do with that money,” I remember saying. She looked up at me with a chocolate smile and stumbled into her room grabbing her piggy bank.

I was wrong, she knew exactly what to do with it.

Year after year I tend to be the biggest looser of the hunt in more ways than one. Not only do I never get the bonus egg, but I also usually end up finding the least amount of eggs. My sisters will be sitting on the floor, counting their eggs out loud and be in the 30s or 40s and meanwhile, I will have stopped counting before reaching 20.

Throughout the years I have had friends visit the house on Easter Sunday and watch in amazement as three adult woman run around my mother’s house pushing and shoving each other in effort to look for the dozens of hidden plastic eggs. “One of you needs to have some kids soon,” my friend Tania has said shaking her head looking at my sisters and I with a concerned look.

However, it doesn’t stop at the hunt. After we are done with the hunt, we open our Easter baskets filled with stuffed bunnies, candy and other goodies that the “Easter Bunny” has brought us.

This weekend I will be in Thailand with the BIL (Boy I Like.) I am hoping that the Easter Bunny can travel that far, but just in case he doesn’t, I packed some plastic eggs.

Again, my mother thinks I am crazy. “Honey you can’t be serious, are you really packing plastic eggs for your trip?” she says to me.

“Mom, I know the Easter Bunny exists, but I can’t count on him to come all the way to Thailand,” I say seriously. “I mean, that is crazy.”