We’re like moles today, finally crawling out of our Easter burrows, blinded by too much light, wondering where our pants are, and tripping on discarded egg wrappers and bits of craft paper on the way out. We rolled in from out west late last night, carrying heavy, sleeping children smelling of sun and hot chips, tucking them into bed before collapsing into our own. And today, well, the kids have had morning baths but are since unclothed, and I can’t imagine they will be in the near future. We’re eating rice and baked beans because grocery shopping is absolutely too hard and also Joel took my car keys to work but we’re not talking about that.
To keep the holiday vibe going, a girlfriend is coming over later for a sleepover and we’re dipping our toes further into this holiday week as much as possible. Sometimes, the real world with its routines and predictability is nice and grounding and comforting, but other times, we reject the real world with all our might.
Right now, we’re at the rejection phase.
Our easter burrows were just right this year. We kept things simple, but full, new ideas for next year made, plus traditions we repeat every Easter like the pictures hanging from our cosy burrow walls: This is us, these are our stories.
Our annual Easter fair.
She can buy her own tickets, thank you.
The egg hunt.
Easter brunch with my loves.
Easter dinner at mum and dad’s, whereby the kids are continued to be fed a diet of chocolate.
And road trips west, enjoying friends and scenery too beautiful to say no to.
“Daddy, can you hold my hand?”
“Daddy, why is the mountain high up?”
“Daddy, what is a point?”
She’ll soon be gone, this little girl of ours. Her mispronounced words and myriad of questions will phase out into Babysitter Club books and alone time, and then further into iPhones, ripped jeans and rebellion. Billy won’t be far behind her. Easter egg hunts and tea cup rides will be a long distant memory and we will, like every other parent on the planet, wonder where that time went.
So bear with me while I document these Easters of Childhood like they’re a dying breed. Besides, when we woke up on Easter Sunday, Joel said to me – and can we get a minute’s silence here – “I’m just going to put on the easter Pandora station.”
If Joel sees the importance in upping the celebratory ante then Lord help us all.
All hail easter burrows and piles of laundry and calendar holidays and finding reasons, big or small, to celebrate life.
Also, this is what a chocolate-induced spiritual experience looks like.