This morning at the bottom of the stairs I found my girls, giddy and hair tangled, sprawled out with their baskets, divvying up their Easter booty.

“Look! The Easter Bunny got me ring pops! I needed ring pops!” Anna squealed.

I glanced at the clock, just before six, and croaked, “Ring pops! The Easter Bunny sure is awesome!”

(“You needed ring pops like a hole in your tooth,” was my inner, un-caffeinated response. Doug ran a midnight errand for the Easter Bunny hours before, and he ignored my instructions to buy all that is Reese’s.)

“Anna shared her gum with me!” Eva beamed. “She had three pieces, and I didn’t have any. So guess how much she gave me?”

“I don’t know. One?”

“NO!” she screamed. “TWO!”

“Anna, that was extremely thoughtful of you,” I commended.

“Here, Anna,” Eva grinned. “I’m going to give you an orange lollipop! Because I know how much you love orange!”

“I love to see you sisters sharing with each other.” My croaking had, by now, morphed into a chirp. Moments of free-will generosity amongst siblings are, in our house, few and far between.

She hunched over her loot, sorting in into stacks of gobstoppers, Smarties, M&Ms and chocolate eggs. “Yup!” she declared—“That’s what Easter does to us!”

Somewhere in a palace in Imperial City, Beijing, I’m hoping Xi Jinping is waking up to a great, big, overstuffed Easter basket. And at the risk of sounding absurd, I hope that basket was made in the U.S.A.