I had sort of forgotten it was Easter. I'm good that way, I have an uncanny ability to be able to look at a calendar, make a date to do something and then look at it again a few days later, made a date to do something else at the exact same time and until an hour before I'm scheduled to do both, completely not work out that I've messed things up again. So, despite the fact that we scheduled our holiday to coincide with the nursery's Easter break, we were also invited down for Easter to see friends and despite the fact that I hosted a bank holiday picnic, I had forgotten it was going to be Easter when we got to Canada.
My brother and sis-in-law are tremendously good at remembering things like this however and they arrived at my parents' house with Easter presents, including the plans for an Easter egg hunt. I hadn't thought about how much my son might like an Easter egg hunt and when the idea was posed I initially figured he wouldn't cotton on but he did, immediately. He toddled around with his sweet little easter bag, shouting with glee every time he spotted another one and he's still talking about it - everytime he looks out the window at the snow hiding places he exclaims 'eggs gone!'
After it was all done he sat ont the sofa while my sis killed herself laughing as, with an intensely serious look on his face he shovelled chocolate eggs into his mouth until he had chipmunk cheeks. He got four in there before we could stop him and then we were presented with something I wish I had photographed: a massive hollow chocolate car, my parent's idea of a suitable present for a two year old. Holy merry chocolate aunts dancing the fandango, you have never seen such big big eyes as the eyes of the spud when we presented him with this vision.
The upshot of all this Easter joy is, of course, the sugar rush.
I allowed him the chance to gnaw a little on his car and then the frog and my siblings and I took him into town. On foot. It's about 1.5km and we figured it was make him walk or pretty much watch him tear the place apart and then throw up. We took him to the playground and he ran around like mad and then he walked nearly all the way home - despite which, he still didn't nap, although after waving an enthusiatic goodbye to Hoto and Shell he did go immediatley and unprotestingly to sleep around 8pm
So far he's not asking to go home, the excitement is just too much. Hoto and I still have a few childhood things stored at the parental home and one of these was a box of Hoto's old cars: corgis and matchboxes, some of them dating from the 1960s, lots from the 70s. Despite the host of other toys that have been purchased or borrowed or dug out of boxes for the visit, this box is the big winner - a total treasure trove. Every day the spud finds a new favourite in it and between that and a tricycle that a friend rescued from the dump, he has been in heaven.
The frog, meantime, has been doing some clandestine chipmunking of his own; each time I am convinced to drag the spud's car out for a gnaw, more of it is gone. The frog has been rushing around the house laying his magic fingers on broken electronics and having them ping back into life. Maybe there's something to this sugar rush thing after all.