The neighborhood Easter egg hunt in my cul-de-sac has “Steel Magnolias” energy this year. All the kids running around in pastel cotton dresses and clip on bowties. Two dads independently decided to be the Easter Bunny and their never-been-properly-cleaned getups are thoroughly confusing the kids. My table is set, and the lunch is ready. All that’s left to do is laugh and wait for our resident Truvy to come rolling around the corner with a trunk-full of filled eggs.