May Your Day Bring Peace

Hardboiled Eggs by Hal Swift When I was just a little tyke, I loved to eat hardboiled eggs. I often heard my daddy say he thought I had hollow legs. It's a fact, when kids are little, their stomachs are kind of small. But when they're eatin' hardboiled eggs it ain't no problem at all. Now, Dad liked hardboiled eggs as well, we looked forward to Easter day. We'd set down at our big table, and we'd both really put 'em away Mom got worried when I was five, about how many I ate. She told my dad to take it slow, and not to refill my plate. I begged my dad, and asked for more, until he finally gave in. "Let's have us a contest, boy," he said. An' gimme a great big grin. Now, Dad did good, I'll give 'im that, but soon, he kinda let down. Mom was standin' there, watchin' us, on 'er face, a worried frown. I led Dad by two-to-one, and considered it quite a trick. I ate number nine, an' liked it fine. Number ten's when I got sick. I don't eat much at Easter now, and it ain't no big disgrace. Because when it comes to hard-boiled eggs, I can't look one in the face.