"I think we need to take the Easter eggs back," Gerald said.
Louise looked up from placing an Easter bunny on a table. "Why's that?"
"Because one just hatched."
Louise frowned, crossing the room to where Gerald was coddling a small bird in his hands. She was hoping for some kind of explanation, which proved to be difficult to do when he looked more confused than she did.
"What do you mean," Louise said, rubbing the back of her head, "when you say that it hatched?"
"Well, I was getting some of the eggs out for the hunt, right? And we have some big ones to put down in the super secret spots for the really eager-eyed kids. And then, well, I put this one up on top of the wardrobe, when I noticed that it began to shake. And, well...this happened."
Gerald held the baby bird forwards to emphasise his point. Louise recoiled back.
"What even is it?" Louise said."
"I meant the breed."
"I have no idea." Gerald brought the bird up to his face. "Looks sort of like a velociraptor ate a Dorito too big for its mouth."
"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure that it wasn't supposed to be in there."
"Me either. To be honest, if I expected anything to hatch out of an Easter egg, it would be a rabbit."
"Rabbits don't lay eggs."
"And velociraptor birds don't give birth to pure chocolate, but here we both are marvelling at the surprises of reality itself."
Both of them marvelled at the same time. The bird responded to the amazed stares with a cheep.
"So," Louise said, "I suppose the next thing to ask ourselves is what we're doing with it."
"Find some tiny bunny ears and a poofy tail. We've always wanted a little rabbit to go with our Easter celebrations, right? So this will do nicely."
"It'll be our little Easter miracle," Louise said, hunting for some cotton wool. "I just hope it never happens again."