My husband and I left the Easter Basket stuff until the last minute. Shame on us. Bad parents. He's been working on the house all day (getting it ready for an appraiser) so we'd planned to go to Wal Mart (twenty-five miles away) after the kids went to bed.
He worked his evening job and was supposed to get gas on his way out. He forgot and the gas station here closes at nine. He even tried siphoning gas from the Bronco and there was simply not enough. No gas means no trip to Wal Mart. We're stuck--with absolutely nothing to put in baskets. This is a first ever and we're both feeling a little stupid.
A depressing fact: My youngest is the only one who believes in the Easter Bunny these days and I'm hanging on to this as long as I possibly can. Not having the cotton tail guy show up would be a lousy way to learn the truth. I don't want him to remain babyish, but I'm not in a rush for him to grow up either.
So I wrote a badly misspelled letter about how our bloodhound mix, Oscar, wouldn't stop barking and how EB would come back later after we locked the dog up. We'll hit the road early in the morning and make a flying trip to the store then. Gary will distract them and I'll fill the baskets. Fortunately Sam isn't terribly picky--Easter candy and some match box cars are plenty for him. I just hope there's some chocolate bunnies left by the time I get to the store.
Guess I that's the end of my "mother of the year" campaign.
No comments:
Post a Comment