Easter Sunday

There are many nice things about my current campground (aka my dad’s driveway), but not the least of them is that there was a chocolate bunny waiting on the kitchen table for me this morning. Happy Easter!

I feel the tiniest bit of guilt that it didn’t even occur to me to send my own kid a chocolate bunny, but he probably would have been very surprised and maybe even skeptical if I had. I’m sure he wouldn’t worry that I was poisoning him, but he would definitely wonder about my inspiration: I was never much good at the candy holidays. Or rather, I was never much good at remembering the candy on the candy holidays — I’d be perfectly happy to be cooking him a nice Easter dinner, it just wouldn’t come with sugar attached.

Last night, I had dinner with my whole family, missing only my own kid. My brother and SIL and his two kids were visiting FL and my sister and her kids live here, so the ten of us went out for pizza. It was definitely a belated birthday celebrations: balloons and flowers on the table and I, at least briefly, wore a tiara celebrating my 50 years. Everyone filled up on delicious-looking pizza, except for my youngest niece and me — I don’t know what M’s inspiration was, but I knew there was gluten-free chocolate cake waiting for me. And now there’s lots of leftover chocolate cake waiting for me.