Tony's Eggs

Tony is a third grader who I have taught for six years.  This is the first year since he was an itty bitty preschooler, that he has not been one of my students.

About a month ago, he stopped by my room after dismissal.  "Ms. Johnson, do you remember when I brought you the book I drew last week?" "I do, Tony.  I really treasure it."  "Ms. Johnson, do you remember last year in Ms. K's class when you colored the eggs like in Patricia Polacco's book?  Would you make one for me?"  Who could resist such a request from such a sweet little boy?  I said, "Why of course!  I'd love to."  Tony was very excited and he left.

The next day Tony stopped by after dismissal again.  "Ms. Johnson, would you make my brother Chris an egg too?"  "Sure, Tony.  I think that is a nice idea."  He was again, very happy, and he left.

The next day, there was a request for an egg for his little brother, Irving.  I had already figured that I would make one for his baby brother, as it just wouldn't be right to leave a brother out.

Tony stopped by the next day.  "Are the eggs ready yet?"  "No, Tony.  I won't start coloring the eggs for several more weeks.  I'll let you know when they are done."

He missed a day or two of visiting me after school, then he showed up again.  "You know, Ms. Johnson, I was thinking.  Maybe you better give me the eggs in an egg carton.  They may break on the way home."  I thought that in a house with three little boys, the walk home was the least of my worries for the eggs, but I assured him that I would send them home in an egg carton."

Tony has visited several more times, and even has tracked me down in other classrooms after school.  I love the little guy, so mostly I just giggle at his enthusiasm.

Tonight I figured that I had better get the pysanky gear out and start practicing again.  I actually made one for Tony, with the hopes that it might not look like a trial run.  The design looked pretty good.

Aside from the fact that I got red dye on my white nightgown and my white cutting mat, the egg survived the dye bath.  Once I started removing the wax however, odd blothes of black appeared.  Ack.  The more I tried fixing it, the worse it looked, and so I threw the egg in the trash.

I have less than two weeks to finish three pysanky eggs, whose life span, once they are delivered,  are destined to be pretty precarious at best.