We, here at Chez Magnetobold, are of the worshipping the giver of chocolate persuasion.
This long weekend is full of sitting on our arses watching movie marathons -reciting Life of Brian word for word while scarfing toasted hot cross buns on Good Friday – and eating a literal butt tonne of food.
We were woken at arsecrack thirty this morning by a six foot four (or is it five now?) bounding ball of excitement, dressed in undies and a tshirt sporting an impressive BedFro that almost touched the top of the door frame, announcing that the Easter Bunny has been and we best be getting out there to check out the chocolatey goodness.
Throwing on some clothes, we ventured out into the lounge to oooooh and ahhhhh at the spoils left by The Giver of Chocolate and conduct the Annual Easter Egg Hunt, which, thankfully, EB had taken heed of the note Boo and I wrote him last night and had hidden the chocolate INSIDE instead of outside where it rained all night.
And now, at 7.30am, with a belly full of chocolate, Boo has retired to his room deeming Easter to be a success and done with.
Easter used to be my favourite of the ‘holidays’.
Exciting, with the wonder of a magical bunny leaving presents, and whimsical with cheesy egg shaped decorations and gaudy colours I would never use save for this time of year.
Easy, because there is no expectation of a huge meal every other day, visiting everyone you have ever known in your entire life just because you feel you should, and besides knowing someones preference for chocolate, gift giving is a snap.
But now it is more bittersweet. Like my chocolate preference.
This year is our first Easter without Maddie here. I am so very lucky that although she has been living out of home in the city for the last few years, she always comes home to be here for Easter morning. To do the Easter Hunt with her brother and then jump on the trampoline with him with the contents of their Easter Baskets flying through the air.
I have woken up to more Easters with her than without her and for that I have to be grateful.
But today it makes me melancholy. With both of my girls out in the world, on these ‘holiday’ days I miss them more.
I couldn’t even bare to get their Easter Baskets out this year.
Watching Boo bound around the house collecting eggs and squealing with delight is fucking awesome and adorable and kinda a little heart ouchy. I ADORE that he still believes in Easter Bunny and Santa and the goodness of people but I wonder if I am doing him a disservice in encouraging this.
Is it for me or is it for him? Am I keeping the fantasy alive for my own selfish benefit? Should it be just another day bereft of magical gift giving creatures? Am I desperately clinging to my childrens childhood because I am not ready to move on?
Or, as I desperately want to believe, I am so very lucky to have these few more years of wonder and fantasy and belief that if you are good then good things will happen.
Like a fuck tonne of chocolate under an Easter tree or an excited man-child skipping around the house with a Cars themed Easter Basket.
Happiest of Easters to you and yours and any of the mythical creatures you believe in.