Easter

Don't talk to me about Easter. I fully expected us to have a exceptionally naughty weekend devouring these suckers (well my egg was actually a half egg loaded up with Rocky Road, S got a Ferrero Rocher egg and Jack got a train with eggs in it) especially as we so rarely eat chocolate in this house.
The view I expected on Sunday morning was choc full of easter eggs, bunnies and bilbies and instead I spent a whole lot of time looking at this instead (but goodness that's not our toilet - look how white and new it is - that's our toilet's stunt double).

Jack was sick on the Thursday before easter, at 4am, on me. S waited until the day after me, I have a feeling that the bacteria kindly got together and decided that we shouldn't get sick at exactly the same time and so yet again we were a plague house. It seemed strange then that I should be reading Year Of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks which is about the plague (infecting a village in England in 1666). Put things into perspective really. I felt awful but was boil free. What a relief. And for anyone that hasn't read it, it is a great read and I highly recommend it. Just don't eat custard while you read it.
And of course I imagine you were all expecting a million cute photos of Jack with chocolate all over his face and fingers, devouring his eggs in a great orgy of chocolate consumption. Umm...no, we took things easy for awhile there and though Jack was the first back on the chocolate bandwagon he's only been having one egg a day from his train. Although if it was up to him it would be more, many more. Okay, so there are some photos after all from last Friday night. Please note the matching father and son flannies.