Chris was away for the Easter long weekend (maybe at EasterFest...can't remember - important part was he was away). I was looking after the girls at home - they would have been about five and seven years old. I decided that for Easter morning I would make an amazing Easter Egg hunt.
(WARNING: STOP READING NOW IF YOU THINK THE EASTER BUNNY LEAVES THE EGGS AND THE TOOTH FAIRY LEAVES THE MONEY AND CLOTHES MAGICALLY WASH THEMSELVES AND MONEY GROWS ON TREES...)
I made clues to follow and left little puzzles for them. I even drew a MAP. I placed about 16 medium sized eggs out in the garden late on Saturday night. I cunningly hid them in the treehouse, under the stairs, in the letterbox, under leaves - not too tricky, not too easy. My girls could sniff out chocolate with their eyes closed (I like to think that is a genetic trait from me).
We woke up excitedly on Easter morning. I wanted to do my AMAZING treasure egg finding eggstranvaganza before we went to church. I gave the girls the map and instructions. And let them run outside. I was listening for the shouts of laughter and happy giggles.
What I heard was disappointed moans.
I went out to investigate, trying to subtly check if the eggs were still in the right place.
No eggs.
Anywhere.
I did find little scraps of foil wrapper hidden in the treehouse and scattered among the leaves.
All I can surmise is that somewhere in a treetop was a very ill chocolate filled possum.
And the girls had no eggs from us that Easter.
Oh no! That is the saddest Easter story I've heard, apart from the crucifixion. And that story had a happy ending!
ReplyDeleteIt is pretty sad. I learned my lesson about trying to over achieve as a mum. Or about chocolate and hungry possums. Or something like that.
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