Here’s my sob story: as a child, I was only allowed to participate in one Easter egg hunt. There was also many years that I wasn’t allowed to color eggs, since I’d “make a mess.”

Now, in my 30s, I look back with a sense of resentment towards my parents for making me miss out on some childhood adventures.

Until now.

I recently went to an Easter egg hunt. It was violent. Luckily for me, I didn’t know any of the participants, I just went to the town’s festival to witness the “fun” first-hand. Fun? Not so much. Chaos? You bet.

It was cutthroat. Even though kids are broken into age groups, it is a survival of the fittest. There was crying. And lots of it. All for a stupid plastic egg and cheap candy.

Maybe I owe my parents an apology. Because if I have a kid, I’m either barring Easter egg hunts or sending them in armed.