There is a dogwood tree in our front yard, and if the front door is open, to reveal the glass-paneled storm door, I can see this tree when I am standing in the kitchen.
Several years ago, when I still had one who napped, I took Fun Size by the hand, and we went out to this tree and together, we tied plastic easter eggs with fishing wire to the branches. The plastic pastel colored eggs dangled from the tree, and Fun Size grinned with delight.
Later, I was standing at the kitchen counter, making him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, when I looked up, out the door, and the eggs were gone.
There was no wind. The sun was shinning… but the eggs were gone.
I walked through the hallway, and outside to investigate, only to find Fun Size, standing with a wiffle ball bat, grinning ear to ear. The eggs were lying on the ground, and he said, “I got ’em all, mommy.”