T’was the night before Easter, and all through the crib
Candy-crazy creatures stirring, not telling a fib
Easter baskets sitting on the table downstairs
In hopes the Easter Bunny soon would be theres
Nothing is better than candy and treats
Fluffity dresses, pinkity things on their feets
A sugary tantrum is sure to appear
Not one or two, but many, I fear
Now that Easter 2012 has officially subsided, threats of texting the Easter Bunny to assay feisty five year-old behavior are pointless. Beenie looked me directly in the eye and asked me if I put the chocolate peanut butter Easter egg in her basket… “Are you telling the truth?” she asked. And I told her, “It wasn’t me.” Don’t be mad, Beenie. I’ll never lie to you about anything important. I promise.
Mimi and Beenie today rode the bikes Granny and Baba (my parents) got them at an estate sale like two years ago. They have helmets and training wheels (don’t ask my opinion about learning to balance, because nobody cares), and husband and father took those crazy purple pink beasts out on the road. To be specific, the dead-end street that is ours. Wow.
Why, pray tell, were there suddenly more than thirty views of this poor, forgotten blog last week? Usually I’m lucky if five people show up on any given day. Including myself. Shit, I never have time or energy to write these days. I miss you and 20/20. There is more, but next time.