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This totally ties in when you get to the part where I refer to #1Hubby’s Easter egg…. |
It is with great pleasure that I break my internet silence / blog laziness, to detail how I nailed Easter.
It started the week before Easter, with the kids spotting the Easter Bunny costume I had out ready for the school Easter celebrations.
Followed 5 minutes later by them spotting the sports teacher in said suit, minus the head.
As for Easter itself, I was far more prepared and on the ball.
I purchased the egg hunt goodies about a month in advance, when they were on special.
Then I forgot to take them to the #1Grandparents’ house in the country, and so I paid double the going rate, along with the other panic stricken last minute purchasers, at a small country supermarket.
I’m not proud of myself, but I may have growled a little bit at a guy eyeing off the last tray of Cadbury eggs. It was that or a block of cooking chocolate.
Easter Saturday saw me hiding in the #1Grandparents’ garage attaching name tags to all the Easter hunt eggs.
I had learnt from previous years – Mstr7 stands in one spot looking up at the sky, as if expecting his share of the egg hunt bounty to fall from above, straight into his basket. Meanwhile, the girls have done a couple of laps of the garden and found everything, and refuse to share anything with him except the cheap shit chocolate.
In order to ensure that, this year, nobody would have to lose their shit (Mstr7) or yell and threaten and have a tanty (me), I had printed name tags for the egg hunt.
Except I forgot those too, as I’d left them with the carefully planned out, original egg hunt eggs. At home. An hour and a half away.
So I hid in the #1Grandparents’ shed and gave myself RSI attempting to write half arsed new name tags with my left hand, so the kids wouldn’t pick my handwriting.
The kids repeatedly rode their bikes up the driveway and straight into me. Literally.
Which they thought was hilarious, more so as I lost my shit and yelped at them to get out (or other such less child-friendly words….).
At this point, I figured they were just taking the piss, and so I persevered with the name tags, sustaining my efforts / consoling myself with their Easter eggs.
Saturday night, and the kids put out not one but two massive glasses of wine – they couldn’t agree on whether the Easter Bunny would prefer red or white, so they went with one of each – and a tiny carrot (it’s at times like those that I love them fiercely and regret eating a third of their Easter eggs out of spite).
The Easter Bunny had already knocked back a fair bit of wine with her mother that evening, but lest she disappoint the eager to please children, she necked both the wines, took a teeny tiny bite out of the mini carrot, and went to bed.
6 hours later, nursing a pretty impressive hangover, it’s 5am Easter Sunday and Miss7 wakes up. She nudges me awake to ask if she can go check what the Easter Bunny left her.
OH FFS. The whole point of it all – the hiding of the Easter Eggs for the egg hunt….
So I’m begging her to STFU and go back to sleep, telling her she is not allowed out of the bedroom under any circumstances, until her siblings wake up.
I manage to catch her just before she jumps on her sister’s head to wake her up.
I tell her I’m going to the toilet. So I can panic toss the egg hunt goods around the garden.
She says she will come with me. Because she’s smarter than me.
So I tell her I’m going to do #2.
She considers this for a second, then throws me a look of disgust and lays back down.
It’s almost pitch black, cold, and quite damp outside.
I am commando crawling across the wet lawn, attempting to lay out the Easter egg hunt without being detected by Miss7, whose face is pressed against the bedroom window, trying to spot something, anything Easter-related.
Meanwhile, Mr Easter Bunny and the rest of the crew are fast asleep.
Bastards.
I finish up just in time to spot both girls standing at the back door, watching me silently swear and have a mini-meltdown while wringing the sopping wet ends of my PJ’s out on the lawn.
Long story slightly less long – everyone eventually woke up and the kids had their egg hunt. The whole thing was over in less than 5 minutes. Not one of them yelped with joy and elation in a manner that I had expected would warm my heart and possibly frost bitten fingers and toes.
Bastards.
All that advanced effort. Mixed with stuff ups. Panic measures and plan B. All of it. Done and dusted in the time it took me to make a cup of tea while telling #1Hubby where I was going to insert his Easter Egg for sleeping through the whole 5am panicked commando crawling.
Next year, I’m not hiding anything. I’m just going to send them outside as per usual, and tell them to keep looking until they find something….