When is Easter finally going to arrive? It feels like I’ve been waiting for weeks on end. All those glistening, gleaming eggs in the shops, the endless parade of bonnet making and cards coming home encrusted with coloured feathers.
The thing that’s really marking time for me, however, is the diminishing stack of eggs. Year on year I don’t buy any in an attempt to control my cravings. I assume I’ll eat them all before the day, so I’ve always left egg buying to the last minute – and then ended up getting my children the scabby left-overs with the torn wrappers from the back of the shelves.
This year I decided I would be a better mother and buy in advance – to make the most of the cheap offers so I wasn’t left doing that last minute run round panic.
I was doing really well at ignoring the bulging cardboard box on top of the wardrobe until my daughter came home from school and started eating a massive egg – millimetre by millimetre – and only one of those a day. Her will-power and control, at the age of seven, is magnificent. If only she could use the same restraint when attacking her brother or sister.
Every time I open the fridge, her egg is sitting there, whispering in a most unchristian manner: ‘Eat me, go on do it’.
I can’t even pinch a bit off the side as my giant fangs would definitely give me away next to my daughter’s delicate little teeth marks. It’s been agony, so I solved my cravings by having a monster munch in the wardrobe.
And that’s why time seems to be stretching. Day after day the wardrobe stack gets smaller and smaller as I make my way through my bargain bucket, yet Easter is still aeons away. My inner bunny is definitely bulging outwards as the true meaning of my Easter is revealed. Yes, it’s all about gluttony.
Come Saturday, I will be doing my annual run-around panic, getting the left-overs from everyone else’s organised shopping and trying to calculate if indeed two small chocolate button eggs are the chocolate equivalent to one giant aero egg, and how the regular cream eggs fit into that equation. As we all know with children, it’s not the financial cost that has to be even, it’s the glory of the packaging.