Ah, Easter Sunday, where I am up at some stupid hour starting with the figure 4, getting caught by the six year old as I’m trying excruciatingly hard not to make any noise (damn floorboards!) and attempting to hide behind a door.
Wander out into dark, as even the sun is not stupid enough to have made an appearance at such a stupid hour, only to have the sensor light, the one that only senses you if you’re a cat and not a human being attempting to hang washing out at 11.13pm or play Easter Bunny at Stupid O’Clock, chooses this moment to brighten the entire planet.
Still, I manage to perform the intricate task of hiding smallish chocolate eggs around the backyard so they’re not too easy to find, but also not too hard as to result in tantrummy meltdowns due to inadequate chocolate egg supply.
Lament the fact that this particular job is relegated to me, recall incidents of years past where Grumpy Pants took on the task and just piled them up in the middle of the decking, then lament fact that I have a congenital defect that requires I do ‘fun’ things for the kids. I.e. Easter Egg hunts.
Hide the first pack. Spread the second pack over back lawn and stumble way back to bed. Am extremely disheartened when discover six year old has wandered outside, then climbed into bed with us, cold, and my coffee machine didn’t go off as scheduled.
Eventually allow for hunting, Chippie eating an entire egg, including wrapper, pre 6.20am, poking the beanies that kept falling out back in the partially consumed egg them wiping his filthy face on the crotch of my pyjamas.
Godzilla, the sweet tooth, managed to consume approximately 8 kilo of chocoalte prior to breakfast and without anyone seeing. Considered sending in application on his behalf for role of Easter Bunny due to convincingness of his bounce and apparent endless hyperactivity.
Realise with great dismay we have guests coming over, I have neglected to purchase any Eastery type gifts for them. Nor do I have anything edible to serve them. After touring neighbourhood and web for openness of supermarkets, discover am forced to endure the exorbident prices of local “supermarket” for provisions.
Also purchase essential items for production of rocky road to package nicely and present as gifts to guests. The only Easter “eggs” they had remaining were a) rabbits and b) crap. And cost somewhere in the vicinity of $600.
Take kids with me in hope it will burn off some energy.
Clearly am an idiot.
Utilise a somehow forgotten, but very good quality chocolate, rabbit from a previous Easter in rocky road preparation, convincing self it will make it more Eastery. And that the ‘best before’ date couldn’t be seen.
Forced to stuff a third of a packet of marshmallows in mouth in the process as the kids were being somewhat overactive and obnoxious, so refused to allow them any and had to make a decent point. Also, there were that many left over that wouldn’t fit in the container, and it is a well known fact that any bits of anything that don’t fit in must be eaten.
Also couldn’t find another suitable container as it appears remainder of household incapable of putting things away where they belong.
Managed to muck up the rocky road, which I feel is a feat in itself as it already looks like mish mash and fairly hard to fuck up. Still, I managed it and blame it on early morning, lack of effective coffee machine operation in time of great need and near choking on marshmallows. That, however, did get me some minutes of peace and acceptable behaviour.
Fucked up rocky road in fridge to set so I could chop it up and wrap it beautifully in cellophane when guests arrive and hide yet more chocolate in the back yard and Chippie eats more red foil and chocolate, then attempts to dehair cat by grabbing it with choc-coated hands and comes up resembling a miniature yeti, having literally dehaired the cat and successfully sticking fur to self.
Guests depart, I unsuccessfully rummage in fridge to find wine and discover fucked up rocky road.