Failing at Easter

Today being Easter, the social media backdrop has ramped up a gear, reminding me how ‘other people’ do this kind of stuff.  Providing a handy rulebook to substitute for the one I lack for all manner of social situations.  
On its own, and without the structuring meat or religion elements in our household, it’s somewhat challenging to eke out the chocolate factor to cover the entire day.  So it’s useful to have the reference there to see how we should be celebrating.  Facebook, true to form, is abuzz with the well epic time that everyone is having.

Fair play, the children have rallied with fairly stoic degrees of enthusiasm for Easter egg hunts and done some impressive egg-related punning. The older two have drawn particular delight from having been told that Mummy does the Easter bunny stuff, but that they’re not to tell Katie – so they are obviously now the arbiters of important social knowledge and pretty damn streetwise.  But it has to be said that only one of them is really all that fussed about chocolate.  Give Katie a jammy dodger any day, and Harry won’t countenance the cheapo chocolate you get in any Easter multi-buys.   He is a boy born to better things, evidently.  So we now have an abundance of eggs that will sit there with their cursory holes for several months before someone takes an executive decision that the joy of Easter is over.   Last year we did attempt to melt them & turn them into crispy cakes, but something unspeakable happened to the chocolate and the result was quite unpleasant.  It was probably symbolic of something.