Easter.

I could overwhelm you with my heart felt beliefs about Easter.
I could write a poem and post it on here about Easter.
I could sing you a song about Easter.
Instead, I decided to make a video of Roman opening his first ever Easter egg.
(Excuse my croaky voice, I have had a sore throat for about two weeks now and I'm slowly losing my voice.)

This is his second Easter but his first time with his own whole Easter egg.When I was a kid there was no strict policing on Easter eggs that I seem to recall - you were given the eggs and gorged on them until you were sick - and in my case that happened a lot, because I was greedy and had no will power when it came to sweet 'treats' (is it really a treat when too much of the good stuff can cause Type 2 Diabetes?)Buut I do remember one year; we got Cadbury's Creme Eggs every single year from my Granny and Granpa Kirk. Without fail. I loved this because Creme Eggs were my favorite of favourites. And let's face it every piece of confectionery was my favorite - I didn't discriminate. Well, this one year, my parents got the Creme Eggs early. Not wanting to release the goods until nearer Easter they kept them in a 'safe' cupboard (where little children wouldn't go prying, I assume.)Well, one night, the Creme Eggs started calling out to them. And do you know what those little Creme Eggs were saying?"EAT ME! EAT ME! EAT ME!"And so they did. It must have taken them a while to plow through 6x4 Creme Eggs (you do the calculations), but they were scoffed. We didn't get Creme Eggs that year.As a parent I had my own Creme Egg Incident this year - minus the Creme Eggs.Roman got his egg early, too, you see. And in this egg package was a bar of chocolate. As you may or may not know I have given up chocolate - I don't want Type 2 Diabetes, seriously, I am paranoid about this.However, one night, it was shouting at me. Over and over again. And do you know what it was saying?"EAT ME! EAT ME! EAT ME!"And well, it had been a long day where I'd missed at least two meals - I sometimes get so tired that lifting a fork is a great effort - and I felt like eating it. I split it with B (who got about 4 squares) and did I feel bad? A little bit. You see I was literally stealing candy from a baby*. And well, it never tasted so good ;).*Roman disclaimer: I really have nothing to say for myself on this matter. I did a bad thing. I broke my chocolate fast. But let's be real here for a second, (and justify our wrongs) how long would it have taken one little boy to get through so much chocolate? Exactly. I rest my case.