On Saturday night Mr G and I went for a rare, child free night out. We had a good evening with some friends, I test drove a new flavour cocktail (can’t remember what it was and hopefully won’t be trying it again) and enjoyed some time examining the fashion of the youth of today. Call me old (really, don’t; it makes me very grumpy) but if I can see your piercing, your shorts are too tight!
The most chocolatey day of the year dawned. Rather earlier than intended for me in fact, since recently my hangovers seem to coincide with an amazing amount of stomach acid which wakes me up bright and painfully.
As I wandered bleary-eyed around the bathroom looking for some stomach settlers, there was a sudden bolt of light in my brain. Wincing, I shut the curtain again. And that’s when it hit me. Today was Easter Sunday. That fabulous day when the magical bunny breaks into our homes, presumably with the skill of a cat burglar, and deposits chocolatey goodness on the kids beds.
The kids beds.
I stumbled into the bedroom and rooted frantically through the cupboard until I found the kids eggs. Then I snuck into their room and in a synchronised movement performed with the skill and finesse of a martial arts expert, I launched an egg into position at the foot of MM1’s bed while diving below eye level to place one beside MM2’s bed – just as he opened his eyes.
Thus did I once again perform my duties are a mother and maintain the illusion of magic for the children.
And then, with all the love and care that a mother holds clear in my tone I growled, ‘Go back to sleep, it’s early,’ and took my hangover back to bed.
You see, as long as you try, it’s never too late!
This post was written for Project Optimism. Click on the elephant or take a look at my previous posts for more information. You too can join in – because it’s never too late.
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