Easter

The children of food Puritans like me are usually only allowed to eat sweets and chocolate on special occasions, and even then only in moderation. So today when we gave our daughters colossal chocolate eggs with the inevitable accompanying gigantic bars of Dairy Milk they may have been slightly unsure about what was going on. Once they’d started eating the chocolate though and nobody had told them to stop it was as if the walls of society had come crashing down. They responded in a way I never would have foreseen; they took all their clothes off. Then they ran round and round the garden shouting and waggling their bottoms. I was relieved that the bacchanalian orgy pretty much stopped there, probably because they are too young to be able to think of any other uninhibited things to do. Actually, Amelia did do a wee in a toy wheelbarrow but they’re too little to tie their parents up and barbecue us. I still haven’t found a reasonable way of reconciling this clearly pagan Easter with the other Easter I’d like them to know about, the Christian one with suffering, resurrection and hope. I tried to bring the subject up but I might as well have been talking about the relative merits of nicely indented html versus optimised text with no carriage returns or formatting. I favour the former, by the way, if you’re interested.