Death and Resurrection

The kids have worried me so much about dying eggs for Easter.
"Patience!" I had told the five-year-old for two days. "You've got to learn some patience! "
I purposely took my time to get things ready. Just because our son sat around just staring at me. I just kept thinking of things to do so I could drive him crazy.
Didn't work- he drove me crazy first!
As I carefully placed the cooled, boiled eggs in a bowl, I hear someone sniffing. It was the seven-year-old crying. There was no telling what was wrong with her.
"What is it?" I asked rolling my eyes.
"Do you really have to make the chicks die?"
"What are you talkin' about?" I asked her.
"Well you said we have to die the eggs," she answered.
I just spent about ten seconds looking at her. She had to have been kidding.
As I began to prepare the kit and eggs for decorating, I realized there was something missing- or someone. Surely he didn't think I was going to go this alone. Besides... I'm not an arts and crafts person so I didn't want to do it.
"Daddy!" I yelled. "The kids want you to help them with these eggs!"
Reluctantly he came in and plopped in the chair- acting like my third child.
So there we were, the four of us having a cute little family time. But the two oldest ones (myself and Daddy) did not want to be there. I would have been happy just cracking a few and sprinkling some salt on 'em.
"Sooooo... are these eggs gonna come back to life again?" our darling little talkative daughter asked.
"What?" I said sternly.
"The eggs died so they are going to be resurrected again!" She said with a huge smile.
I just looked at Daddy- while we both yawned.
Where do they get this stuff?