Happy Easter! Mine started officially at 5:45am when my nearly four year old daughter came charging into our bedroom declaring that the Easter Bunny had, in fact, arrived. Unofficially, my wife and I had been tending our 8 month old pretty much the whole night and had not been able to sleep for more than half an hour at a time since we first tried to go to bed at midnight. A heart-felt plea for a little more sleep was knocked flat by a little girl who knew it was her duty to go and follow the trail of Easter Eggs left by a chocolate toting giant rabbit. She also didn't want us to miss out on any of the fun, though her idea of sharing the experience didn't initially extend to the eggs themselves, just the joy of seeing her find them. After some persuasion, she relented and allowed DW (dearest wife) and myself a chocolate bunny each (there were three after all) and kept the remaining 17 assorted eggs for herself. Yes, there were twenty but one had been sacrificed in honour of parents everywhere. Its my way of giving back.
By 6am the fun was over and chocolate was smeared over the face of the little princess. She managed to scratch her mouth on the first egg, such was her enthusiam to devour it. At least she took the foil off. I may have stolen an egg as well. So now I am stuck listening to ABC Kids (hey, I don't have to face it) while being pestered every couple of minutes by an increasingly bloated princess for more chocolate, as if the next piece will somehow magically cure the over-full feeling. I suppose it just might work - and also cure the chocolate craving, at least until morning tea. But that won't be my problem. DW has the watch from 9am.

Again, Happy Easter!

Chocolate doesn't cure anything, but let's face it, it doesn't need to.