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by Agnieszka Wolsoncroft A couple of weeks ago was Easter. This Saturday is ANZAC Day. Between them sits something I've been trying to understand my whole life: what it costs to dye an egg in safety. Let me explain. # I was seven years old, sitting at my Babcia's kitchen table in Poland, watching her hands move carefully as she arranged brown onion skins in a pot of boiling water. She placed the eggs inside gently, one by one, the way you hold something precious. "Why

by Agnieszka Wolsoncroft I want to tell you about something that happened a couple of weeks ago. Anya and I made cupcakes. Not the first time, but this time it was special. She wore her pink chef's hat – the one that's slightly too big and keeps sliding over her eyes – and took her job very seriously. Measuring flour. Cracking eggs. Filling each tin with exactly the right amount of batter because she'd decided that if even one cupcake was smaller than the others, the whole ba