There is something incredibly "inner-child-liberating" about dying Easter eggs. Whether it's the idea of using a crayon to write hidden messages which will only show up in the dye, or swirling in the oil to make "marbled" eggs, it's just so silly that you can't help but love it.
Having not colored any eggs last year, this year I decided to go whole chicken and do a full 18 eggs. (It doesn't hurt that the 18-egg packs were on sale for less than the dozens were.)
(Not that I didn't let my inner child out to play at other times of the year, though. And, as you may remember, two years ago I relived the joy of The Bunny Cake.)
This year, though, I just had the urge to dye eggs. So I did. All 18 of them. And some paper towels. And some newspaper. And my fingers.
I suspect I'll be taking festive hard-cooked eggs to work with me for lunches for the foreseeable future.
I might also go out and buy some marked-down egg coloring kits after Easter is done, just so that I can have fun colored eggs in my fridge from time to time throughout the year.
Because, really, aside from the chance to color your fingers purple and orange and green, what better reason is there to dye the eggs than to be able to smile every time you open the fridge?