The Heirloom Childhood

After a long day of cleaning, cooking, and preparing to host our very first Easter in our home, we collapsed into bed Saturday night completely exhausted. We fully expected to be woken at sunrise by our two little alarm clocks—our one- and two-year-old—but instead, we woke up to something far more surprising… silence.

And then panic.

We had overslept.

Thirty minutes before Easter Sunday church, we were suddenly sprinting through the house, throwing on outfits, gathering shoes, brushing hair, and trying to piece together the morning as quickly as possible. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, our son—still riding the excitement of his Easter basket—took a small tumble into the coffee table, leaving a little cut just under his eye. It felt like the most on-brand way to begin a holiday with toddlers.

Tears quickly gave way to curiosity as he clutched his new favorite treasure—a small hippo toy—and somehow, we made it out the door just in time.

After church, we rushed home, grateful beyond words that we had done the hard work the day before. The table had already been set, the food prepped, the house cleaned. We had even placed painter’s tape on the table to mark exactly where each dish would go—a small detail that made everything feel calm and intentional in the middle of the rush.

By 11:30, our home was full.

The first half hour was spent welcoming everyone in, wrangling little ones, and attempting the nearly impossible—getting a photo of toddlers in their Easter best. There were bribes, snacks, and plenty of laughter, and while the photos may not have been perfect, the moments were.

Hosting our first holiday felt special in a way we hadn’t quite experienced before. Our home, filled with light and movement, felt like it was doing exactly what it was meant to do. We opened all the windows, letting in the soft spring air, and set a long table for twelve out on the shaded back porch. It was simple, beautiful, and full of life—the kind of setting that invites people to linger.

Lunch came and went in a blur of passing plates, refilling glasses, and helping tiny hands manage big tasks. It wasn’t perfectly timed or perfectly styled, but it was full—and that’s what mattered most.

Afterward, the parents were just as excited as the kids to hide the Easter eggs. We had to remind ourselves not to make it too difficult—after all, this was a toddler egg hunt. Still, we tucked a few into the grass and under low branches, imagining their excitement.

The first few minutes of the hunt were, honestly, a bit of a disaster.

The kids didn’t quite understand what to do, wandering aimlessly at first, unsure why we were so enthusiastic about colorful eggs scattered across the yard. And despite the eggs only being hidden for a short time, the Florida warmth had already started melting the candy inside—leaving sticky hands and small stains on the outfits we had so carefully chosen.

Little hands started picking up eggs, baskets began to fill, and excitement took over. It wasn’t perfect—but it was full of joy.

The outfits that had felt so special just hours before were now part of the moment too—candy stains, sticky hands, and all.

This year, Nora wore a piece we picked up in Georgia the week prior—soft, classic, and timeless in a way that feels meant to be passed down. Knox wore a Peter Rabbit-inspired outfit, which felt especially meaningful because of how much he loves those stories right now. Seeing him light up over something so simple made it feel like more than just clothing—it felt like a memory in the making.

We’ve always loved spring fashion—the colors, the textures, the softness of it all—but seeing it on our children, in motion, slightly messy and completely alive, made it even more beautiful.

As the day wound down, we looked around at our home—still full, still a little messy, still echoing with laughter—and felt something settle in.

This is what we want to remember.

Not the perfectly set table or the carefully planned details, but the feeling of it all—the chaos, the joy, the small moments in between. Hosting our first Easter reminded us that these traditions we’re creating now are the ones our children will carry with them.