These days is frightfully competitive with parents spending obnoxious amounts of money on what is essentially chocolate. Eggs, treats, sweets, cakes hell even kiddy hampers! Then add the outfits and intricately planned and executed events and activities.
I don't get it.
At least with birthdays and Christmas it's a variety of stuff we spoil them with. We like chocolate. Hell, we love chocolate. It's not coveted nor rare in this house. Yet I feel uncomfortable having for all intent purposes a chocolate day. They either glutton on it all day and feel rightfully sick or else we can ration it out over a week or so and it becomes expected.
We buy each child one cheap egg. Some years they've also had those small hollow ones for a hunt. The grandparents and one of their Uncle's also buy them an egg. That's it. Anything else seems superfluous and unnecessary. I'm not being a Grinch, not at all. It's not the treat element i'm against rather the fact it's all just chocolate.
I was all for hiding Moshlings and football stickers in small plastic eggs yet The Husband preferred to just get them a small obligatory egg and that be the end of it.
And it was. For Him. Bloody fool that I am,I made the mistake last year of doing a spare of the moment impromptu egg hunt with clues. Predictably the little cretins wanted a repeat performance this year. Balls.
So there I was, 10am Easter morning eyeballing my water trying to Jesus it into vodka whilst plotting spousiside and The Spawn descend on me. Arse
My brain was away for the bank holiday so I resorted to a code. If you're doing a code it really is rather helpful if you don't use the more extravagant symbols for letters that appear frequently in the clues. I never want to draw another bunny head. Ever.
That was about the pinnacle event of the day. A lack lustre, last minute, around the house egg hunt. That lasted about fifteen minutes. Oh and a roast chicken dinner that nearly didn't happen as I forgot to take the clucking thing out of the freezer the night before.
That was Easter.
Maybe we're just miserable bastards. After all back holidays, St whatsit days, New Year etc all get overlooked here. The Husband is the main culprit, I think he's allergic to celebration full stop. He doesn't even like Christmas. Bah Humbug.
In fact no maybe about it. We are certifiable miserable bastards!