Motherload

We decided to have an Easter egg hunt. Despite the   predojuce   prediguice  bias that is an egg hunt, we did it anyway. We thought about having it in a nearby park. But I had a concern. Five year olds. Picture the scene... "come on Timmy, we are going to be late!" ''but mummy, its easter! we can't go to the park on easter!'' "we can and we will. pack your bags, we're going in the car..." *at the park* "mummy, i'll meet you at the playground!'' "ok, dear." *Timmy stops abruptly at a large pile of chocolate.* "errrr... i'll catch you up!" *moments later. all the eggs are gone and Timmy's mouth is covered in a brown, sweet substance* us: "get him!!!!!!" that is why we decided on an 'at home'. thank you for reading and happy easter from the family. 

I have been micromanaging today. In the attempt to be a true Noel Goddess, I have facilitated Gingerbread House squabbling, paper chain tearing-up frenzy, lunch fallout, glittery tree decoration fritzl, a military parade of getting dressed and doing teeth which has lasted until 2.15pm. Not necessarily in that order. In this I was not alone. There were 4 other adults to the 4 children: notionally an excellent ratio. But this of course leads to the bumping into, multiple apologizing, different ways of doing it, whether or not to say that everything comes from Father Christmas politics, Husband the Chef trying to brine the turkey without having a discussion about it, the underfoot, the underslept and the underwear all over the house. It is only mid-afternoon, yet I am locked up with the computer, desperately hoping to find some equanimity amongst the contradictions, the crowds and the pointlessness. What a snob I am. It hasn't felt pointless this year at all. The whole of December has...