Hunting high and low...

So ladies, did you have have a Hoppy Easter and received some 'eggcellent' chocolate eggs over the last few days?  Alright, I'm sorry, no more Easter puns....

Well I had a great few days, with the highlight of the long weekend being an Easter Egg Hunt which I planned.  I still don't know what my thinking was behind this, but I suggested to the husband that it might be quite nice seeing as 75% of the children would be in residence and my parents would be here along with my best friend Mrs S and her two children.  I should say at this point, that none of the children mentioned are below the age of seventeen so why I thought they would be interested in scampering around a wet field collecting badly concealed chocolate is anyone's guess.  

But my neighbours do have children, so a quick email round robin was sent, with instructions from yours truly to hide the eggs around midday, and then when lunch was finished, we would all convene on the field (large rabbit plonked on the table in the middle as good focal meeting point) and then the hunt would be on.  The children (well, the smaller ones anyway) would scatter in all directions, screaming with excitement as they found the eggs.

It did sort of go as planned except for one thing.  My father, who had been knocking back the wine at a rate of knots, didn't walk down with the rest of us, preferring instead to hang back and dawdle.  We put it down to just having had a heavy roast lunch, but as he got closer to the assembled throng of waiting children, eager with their baskets and bags, we noticed that he was walking with some difficulty.  Getting even closer, it became apparent as to why he was walking like a woman in her third trimester (male readers, ask your wife). Clutched to his stomach were several large Easter Eggs, and his coat pockets were full of the chocolate rabbits which the husband had thoughtfully hung from trees (by their necks - not a pretty sight).  Not only that, but his mouth was full of chocolate, and he had left a trail of empty wrappers from the first tree outside my house.

Taking him to one side, he was given a brisk telling off by me and the rest of the family members who had joined in.  The husband, having given my father a full body search and patting down, disappeared and re-hid the eggs, so that the small children would have a chance of going home with something in their currently empty bags.

'Well, no one told me what the rules where', said my father.  'What chocolate can I have then, if I'm not allowed to keep the eggs I find?'

Trying to explain to a puddled  parent that they are too old to join in is a conversation I never want to have again, but we finally got through to him that the adults were there in a spectator capacity only.

He sulked all afternoon...