I had a pretty happy childhood, or at least that's how I remember it. One of my first memories took place during Easter, when I was about four years old. My mom had gone out into the back yard while my dad was at work and hidden a bunch of eggs, while I was down for a nap. Then, when dad came home, they woke me and we took baskets and ran around the back yard looking for the eggs. My mom stood on the back porch watching with a smile on her face. When it took us a while to find the last two eggs, she guided us by saying whether we were "hot" or "cold." That night she made egg salad sandwiches for us from the easter eggs and the whites were splotched with color from the dye.