Well Easter has come and gone leaving you girls with not much more than some colorful hard-boiled eggs with moderate body damage and little balls of plastic grass tumbleweed gently bouncing through our Easter ghost town.
Little did I know what a couple of kilos of chocolate could do to a kid. Lesson learned. I’m thinking maybe Chex mix for next year. Or frosted mini wheats at the most. Hopefully your milk chocolate induced stupor and subsequent crash taught you a lesson too. Perhaps you’ll think twice about cramming bunny parts into your face till you’re as chocolate covered as a Mallowmar. And how was that cocoa-hangover the next day? Sugary goodness? Didn’t think so. Those black licorice jelly beans are really somethin’ too aren’t they? Just like a fine cigar – sure it’s a delight at the time, but you wake up the next day wondering why you ever smoked the damn thing. And those fluffy little peeps are another story. Made of who-knows-what. Marshmallow, I suppose -at least in a technical sense. And the later-in-life equivalent to peeps you ask? Tequila. No one likes tequila, but when the bachelorette party goes awry and people start yelling SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! you suddenly develop an affinity for giant thimbles full of paint thinner. Or, when your two years old, chewing up little pastel colored chicken babies I guess.
So, let’s plan ahead next year girls. Try to ease up a bit. You can still knock down the neighbor kids in search of the perfect plastic egg – but let’s strive for a program that keeps you on pace for an 8pm bedtime. Your father would rather not stay up all night chasing you around the house and hearing about how you think you can “fly like a kung fu ninja princess”. That chocolate didn’t look good when you were choking it down, and it sure didn’t look good at midnight when it came back up.
My wife told me she thinks I love my lawn more than her. Not sure how to respond, I just praised her incredible female intuition.
Keep in mind girls, that your grandparents’ “apartment complex” (think: Shady Pines) is one of those mysterious and contradictory places where you are expected to “keep it down” at the same time you are required to “speak up!”
My wife says that I pay more attention to my lawn than I do to my lawn. I said – Lawn, that’s not true, you know I love you.