I know what a lot of you are saying. “Easter was soooooo last weekend.” Well, for me, for reasons I can’t go into, Easter is eeeeeevery weekend. Anyway, this was my little miracle baby’s first Easter, which we spent in the Blue Mountains, two hours outside of Sydney.
The hotel had organised an Easter egg hunt that began at 11am. I was late getting out of the shower, so my lady friend and son went ahead without me.
|This is the Blue Mountains. Notice the mountains.|
When I came out into the lobby, where everyone was supposed to meet, there was no one there. I asked the concierge where the Easter egg hunt was, then realized I had no child with me, was still on the wet side and sported a bit of stubble. He probably should have called the police, but he just politely pointed me in the direction of the children, the creep.
I was only 10 minutes late by the time I arrived at the hunt but it was already over. Apparently, the eggs weren’t hidden very well, so all the big kids found them right away while my little miracle just sat there, watching it all unfold.
|No one had to hunt very hard for these Easter eggs.|
My son just stared at me, his eyes telling me how disappointed he was that I had missed this huge First in his life.
“I was just 10 minutes late,” I said.
“That’s the story of your life,” he huffed.
“That’s the story of YOUR life.”
“Nice comeback, deadbeat.”
“That’s a nice way to talk on Easter.”
We both sulked for a moment.
“Daddy,” my little miracle said sweetly, “Tell me the story of Easter.”
“Later,” I said. “Daddy’s hungry.”
The day was saved by a sweet little girl who gave my baby one of the three hundred eggs she snatched up and I realised that’s what Easter is all about.
Easter also has some sort of religious connection, but I don’t know what it is.