Easter Tuesday

I have been collecting Easter items for at least a month.  Whenever I found something silly or fun that was also very affordable I snagged it and put it in my closet.  I was only going to do baskets and not the hunt but Ant started talking about last year at Topaz.  Last year he went around with one of Mike's grandkids, helping her find eggs.  He's really good with younger kids.  He was excited that no one would be holding him up this year.  Of the other kids attending, one is his age, one is 8, one is maybe 5 and the youngest is 2.   I warned him that he would have to be just as restrained as he was last year but that we'd do another hunt at home where he could go crazy with Daddy.  He seemed happy with that.  We also planned to color eggs, which we don't do every year.

Today was a sugar nightmare, of course.  Brunch at the lodge included root beer and mini cheesecake desserts.  At the house the kids were tearing into any candy they could find.  The whole situation was strained to start with because... well, the disfunction increases every year.  The youngest kid was happy, sociable and talkative which was so cute because I couldn't understand most of what she said.  The older kids... not so cute.  Ant got obnoxious quickly and wouldn't stop attacking Chris while he was talking to his family over the phone.  He was greedy and rude.  I was only a little annoyed but mostly I kept it to myself and tried to give him some leeway.

At home he was busy doing what he wanted rather than what he was asked to do and I was still fine and acknowledging that he had one hell of a sugar high today.  Chris made dinner and we were helping him set up.  The plan- all day long- was that we would come home and do our own little Easter but while preparing for dinner he asked if we could watch a movie.  "We're doing Easter," I said.

"Do we have to?"

That was it for me.  "No," I said, "We don't."

And so we're not.  He washed the dishes and was sent to his room.  We'll do Easter maybe Tuesday night.  I'm used to the boys tearing through their baskets with no idea or care about what went into them (I get it now, Mom.  Thanks for never buying me a pre-made Easter basket.) but I'm not about to hand them over to that kind of crap.  In fact, I think I'm going to ask them both to put together something for me for once.