I was woken before dawn this morning by the sound of Wilson rooting round under my bed with a torch. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was on his Easter Egg Hunt.
I hauled him out and explained that he didn't get any eggs until Sunday, not Good Friday.
He looked very disappointed, and said he'd thought that was why it was called GOOD Friday: because of the chocolate. Actually, he looked so downcast that I relented and gave him an early Mini-Egg just to cheer him up.
He went off happily enough, saying that he was going to share his egg with the children then plan his Easter Weekend — which will probably involve a lot of cocoa solids in one form or another, not to mention ants…
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