The tale of the Paschal Lamb

** This is why I love going home for a long weekend....

In Minnesota, we like to carve things.

Out of butter.

If you don't think it's cool, clearly, there is something wrong with you.

As a sixth grade teacher, my mom gets a lot of random presents from her students. Ornaments. Candles. Chocolate. Lotion. Sweaters.

And occasionally, a lamb carved out of butter. Entirely edible with chives for eyes. Just begging to be placed on the Guckeen Easter table. Which it was.

My two four-year-old nephews, Andrew and Nick, are what we all affectionately call Double Trouble. Because they are exactly that. Double Trouble. With a capital T. Where one goes, so does the other, with usually lots of giggles giving away their location.

Needless to say, Double Trouble got to the Paschal Lamb on Sunday...like a lamb led to the slaughter...with words that will go down in history as poor Andrew gagged on a hunk of butter.

"That's not whipped cream!"