Sunday 24th April

So, it’s Easter Sunday.

I know that because the Teenager has foil, plastic and assorted Easter themed crap lying all over his floor.

I know that because every five minutes the dog erupts from the Teenager’s lair with foil, plastic and assorted Easter themed crap hanging out of his mouth. The dog is predictably and repetitively followed closely by the thundering footsteps of the Teenager bellowing ‘Heeeeccccttttooooorrrrr’.

Having wrestled the dog to the floor and prised the offending packaging from his mouth, the teenager returns to his room (along with the packaging where it is returned it to its rightful place on the floor). The dog, looking momentarily subdued, slopes back to his bed and peace returns.

A mere moment later, the dog can be seen creeping shiftily up the stairs with drool on his chin and dreams of breaking one weak egg away from the herd on his mind.

The thundering and bellowing then begins all over again.

It doesn’t seem to have occurred to the Teenager that the solution to his problem is the recycling- bin, or to the dog that the top egg-burglars got away with the blag for as long as they did because they waited until the rightful owners were either asleep or away for the evening.

Very few successful egg-burglaries went down when the owner of said eggs was sitting two feet away playing Red Dead Redemption with one hand and stuffing Milky Bars into his mouth with the other.

Annabelle officially went into chocolate induced orbit at around 8.26am this morning and was taken into protective custody by her friends at around 9am.

 I haven’t actually seen her since then but, Weird-Kid came to the door about half an hour ago and said that she had had a minor altercation with a moving vehicle whilst roller-skating around the close. It appears she tried to over-take on the wrong side of the road and the last that they saw of her was a cloud of pink smoke and a loud booming sound.

Very-Small-Considering-It’s-Age-Kid helpfully added that she thought she had also seen flames but that could easily have been the fire that the Teenager’s dope-peddling buddies were starting in Mrs-Plants-A lot’s garden.

I am planning on spending the day preparing for Friend-Sophie’s imminent, over-night visit by hunting for places to hide the dirty washing-up and my absolutely massive ironing pile.

I honestly don’t know where my kids get it from.