Easter was cancelled

I moved the dates of Easter around. This is the first year that I have not had all of the children, courtesy of the calendar. Some were worried about participating in the annual Easter Egg hunt on the village green. A compromise was reached in which we simply swapped Easter Sunday to Monday. Clearly I had to write to the Easter Bunny, which I did.

This situation does not work well when you still have one child that does not go anywhere on alternate weekends. He didn't see why his Easter should be moved and saw no good reason why he should not slice into the annual Easter cake provided by one of the neighbours. Tis a tricky situation.

The little ones came back unusually quiet on Sunday night. Apparently the only thing that happened all weekend was that they got a biscuit. Sometimes, silence tells you more about a child's thought process than words ever could. As a consequence, I spent yet another night with small feet in my back and in my face. Great

I got breakfast in bed. One small child took all of the chocolate that he had come home with, broke it into a large amount of broken piece and presented in a bowl at 7.30am. Really sweet, very generous, but I defy anyone to eat a plate full of milky chocolate at that time of day. I don't even particularly like chocolate. Fortunately there are enough kleptomaniacs in the house to ensure a continually diminishing pile.

Then I was given some hastily drawn Easter cards, all declaring some form of adoration. Apparently I am 'the only mummy they have' (for true effect you have to say each word in an extended way, very slowly). As their only Mummy I feel I have the right to tell them that another Easter tradition is that all Mummy's get to spend an hour longer in bed. For a non religious household, we embraced the Easter thing with relish.

Suitably convinced by the loud knocking on the door of the Easter Bunny, the hunt commenced. It was finished in 8 minutes. I may have to try harder next year.

"I know what happened to the eggs that were in the bag" said small child

"Oh really"? say I

"Yes" he declares "They are the same eggs that were on the village green"

This is the point I start screaming

"Oh my God, the Easter Bunny stole my eggs, now I have no eggs to give you"

Having suitably tarnished the reputation of the bunny and successfully salvaged mine, I tell the teenager that the Easter Bunny had left a note saying it recognised that teenagers were too cool to be seen hunting on the village green. As such, his eggs had been hidden in the garden. He looks me up and down, then goes back to bed.

Fully into Easter mode, we had Roast Lamb and extended family to eat it. This is the point at which middle child starts telling us about various methods of lamb slaughter. Graphically. By the time we get to dessert everyone is a little less keen on Easter.