On Easter Saturday, many Swedish kids receive candy-filled cardboard eggs. Mine have to jump through a lot of hoops to get theirs. Often I have made paper trails around the house, “Under yellow table”, “Inside broom closet”, “In Dad’s rubber boot”. Then increasingly (as Junior grew) I have obfuscated the clues by swapping Ö for all vowels, writing them backwards or writing them in English. Sometimes I’ve prepared GPS-based outdoor egg hunts. And that’s what Juniorette faced this year, without any help from her older brother who was with his mom. She found the egg soon enough, once she had learned to look at her surroundings, not fixedly at the arrow on the GPS unit. And right beside the egg’s hiding place was a club-house ruin – or at least a poorly kept club house that was used last summer and hasn’t wintered well.