Easter with the Destroyer

by Cookie

So Easter has come and gone, the eating is done, and there are enough leftovers that I won’t have to do much cooking this week.  Sounds good to me!

This weekend has been pretty busy.  We’ve had company for dinner two out of the three nights with me working late on the evening in between.  The Destroyer loves a good party, so a house full of people over the weekend has kept her in a pretty good mood.

Here are some of the highlights:

Here in Winnipeg, there is absolutely nothing open on either Good Friday or Easter Sunday.  Except for the Olive Garden.  Because you don’t want to know what happens to people denied of their soup and salad special.  Even when they have a 20 pound turkey with all the trimmings staring at them.  Seriously.  Crazy.

So Destroyer and I went off on Thursday to do all of our errands.  It’s pretty much as busy everywhere as December 23.  Since I can’t drink tequila with one baby in the oven and the other in the car with me, I put my patience cap on.

The grocery store went pretty smoothly.  They have these giant helium balloons that Destroyer likes.  So I tie one to her cart for the duration of our stay.  Anyway, when I say smoothly, I mean that despite me telling the clerk that I had cases of pop underneath the cart, he forgot to ring them through.  I fucking love that.  I think its why I always put the toilet paper or pop down there.  For the off chance they might forget to make me pay for it.  It’s not really stealing, right?

So then off to the liquor store.  There is nothing better than waddling into a booze store when 7 months pregnant, toddler toddling beside you, and asking the clerk to put a 24 of beer in the cart for you.  Because you can’t lift it in your condition.  Then tossing in a couple bottles of premixed drinks and letting your kid push the cart for you.  Then suddenly, the cart can go no further.  So the Destroyer throws herself on the ground, in the middle of the store and cries her little eyes out.  Because its over.  Oh my fucking gawd.  I should have just put a sign on my back that said  “white trash”  and applied to live with the folks on Duck Dynasty.

Friday was great.  We stayed in with great friends and told old stories about shit I’d forgotten had happened.  Fuck I used to drink a lot.

On Saturday, Destroyer and I went for Dim Sum for the first time.  She was a little tired from the night before and mid-fit when she discovered chopsticks.   Chopsticks are good for stabbing.  And eating.  And drumming.  And dipping in hot sauce.   So I waited for the reaction, the tears of anger and pain and the accusatory tone in her wails.  But it didn’t come.  She took a sip of water and kept on trucking.  I think she might be an alien.

And then there was Easter morning.

So naturally we let It eat nothing but chocolate until lunch time.    Do you know what happens when you give a 20 month old child free reign with chocolate?  They go insane.  We had stripped her of her holiday dress while she ate a bit of “real” food to spare it from pasta sauce.  By the time she was out of her high chair she was possessed. Out of her mind.  I thought for a second she had snorted some bath salts or something.

She ran around the house in nothing but her leotards for about an hour and a half.  Pushing everything that has wheels until it rammed into the nearest roadblock.  Played with every toy she hasn’t looked at in months, and took a huge stinky shit somewhere in between.

And then it just stopped.  She rubbed her eyes, yawned, and I put her down for a 2 hour nap.

Did I mention that this is the first holiday ever that she didn’t puke all over me at the end of the night?

My little girl is growing up.

Happy Easter, Bitches!

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