Happy Easter. She'll be fine, she just ate too much candy for breakfast. I'll take a Mimosa, hold the OJ.

Easter is coming.

Which means that goddam Easter Bunny is on his way.

Hopping down the bunny trail, I’m sure.

He does have a way of keeping my kids in line this time of year, so I am thankful… “Knock it off, the Easter Bunny is watching and you don’t want him to shit in your Easter basket.”

Because I bet his shit looks like Milk Duds.  And you won’t know until you eat one that’s its really shit, so watch your P’s and Q’s little lady.

I’m sure there’s a long history behind how Easter, the day Jesus came back, evolved into the day you lie to your kids about a giant stuffed Rabbit who came into your house while everyone was sleeping and hid a basket full of candy for them to find which you then let them eat for breakfast, soon followed by shooing them out in the yard to run around in their Sunday bests tackling each other for hidden egg treasures then drag them out for brunch with the family so everyone can witness the tail-end of their sugar high followed by their sugar crash.   

I must admit, I do love the chicken toy that shits jellybeans. 

And I’m glad both my kids still believe in the magic of it all.  But seriously, how much longer?  I really thought they’d be over it by now.  They’re old enough to be made fun of on the bus if word gets out.  Should I tell them the truth, and spoil the fun?  Should I let them go on believing till they’re all “What the eff, mom?  You made me look like a fool." I don’t know.  Parenting is so fucking hard sometimes.

Like today, they want to know when we’re coloring the eggs.

*Pause for SERIOUS over dramatic sigh* (that’s me sighing. I even squinted my eyes and tipped my head back while pouting for it)

I hate the smell of vinegar.  When I was younger, my best friend dared me to do a shot of vinegar.  I did it, so now whenever I smell vinegar it makes me gag.  I clean with it because it’s the boss against hard water stains, and in low doses I can tolerate the smell-but sitting there in front of 10 bowls full of vinegar and egg dye makes me squirm.

And then there’s the fighting over who wants what color… “her egg’s been in the blue FOREVER…”  “It’s because I want it to be dark dark blue” (I’m not stupid…she’s leaving her egg in there because her sister wants to use blue.)

Then they fight over whose egg is whose, like you know which is which?  There’s 2 dozen colored eggs, but you know THAT yellow one is yours?  Whatever.

Then I’m yelling something stupid like “ONCE THE EGG GOES IN THE CARTON IT’S FAIR GAME, NO SAVIES!”  Seriously, it’s an egg.  Get over it.  Eat a different one.  Eat one of hers, I don’t give a shit.

Then suddenly all they want to eat is hard boiled eggs…”Can I have an easter egg?  Can I have another one? Etc, etc…”

Now their breath AND their farts smell the same.

Every time I open the fridge it smells like a fart.

I’m so over it, and we haven’t even done it yet.
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