My partner and I enjoyed a coffee and chat in bed this morning, while the kids played in the lounge.
Me: Shit, I haven't bought Easter eggs yet! I'm a crap mother!
Partner: I don't get the whole Easter thing. It wasn't a big deal when I was a kid. Hot cross buns on Good Friday, a few Easter eggs on Sunday, that was it. Why do the kids expect something elaborate?
Me: My fault. Remember I organised a really elaborate Easter egg treasure hunt for M when she was four? Now she expects the same thing every year. I made a chocolately rod for my own back.
Partner: The Easter Bunny is just more crass commercialisation, like Santa. Why do we pretend mythical creatures come to our houses on public holidays? We don't tell our children that Michael Joseph Savage sneaks into the house on Labour Day eve to leave us treats.
At this point, our two-year-old son ran into the room, heard what was being said, and began to sing 'Michael Joseph Savage' in a very high-pitched voice.
Partner: Michael Joseph Savage Garden?