Easter. I think it’s over now, but I won’t really be sure until Sally comes off the insulin drip and stops hallucinating about Jell-O. Only then will we be able to assess the permanent damage, including the fact that she now knows what Skittles are.
In our little family it’s less about Jesus rising from the dead and more about children rising five feet up the wall. And at 3, Sally really got the meaning of the holiday this year. Our day basically consisted of this repeated scene: Child sees that the Easter Bunny has visited, child screams “CANDYYYYY!” with glee, child de-foils milk chocolate bunny at lightening speed and eats rapidly melting ears at 6:08 a.m. — it’s moments like these that the Mr. and I put our arms around each other and really congratulate ourselves on the super job we’re doing as breeders.
But when you hear what I did on the two-hour ride home Easter evening, you’ll understand how a child turns out like her. The three of us were packed into the car, carefully wedged in amongst seven kilos of sugar hidden in plastic eggs. And leftover macaroni salad, but that’s for me. I sat in the back with Sally (something I haven’t done since she was a few days old) because it was clear as we left town that sugar withdrawal was setting in. And any parent who has encountered a Non-Napping Preschooler knows that you DO. NOT. Let. The Child. Fall. Asleep. At 5:00 p.m. . . . . Ever.
If you do, she will be up until tomorrow at lunch. So I rode in back, and people, I brought it. I played with miniature animals, I read stories, I played “guess what I’m drawing,” I tickled. Despite my most annoying efforts, Sally’s eyes repeatedly rolled back into her head and eventually (Curse you, Jelly Bellies!) her eyes closed. And I could not get them open. So I rummaged around in the back seat, all the while voices in my head yelling “We’re losing her!” And I found it.
A neon pink Peep. I wafted it under Sally’s nose like smelling salts. No luck. I rubbed it on her lips, hopeful a grain of sugar would absorb and jump-start her system.
“Sally, wake up! Eat a marshmallow!”
Did her finger move? YES, it did! And then, the eyes open. “Here Sally, eat the marshmallow. And help Daddy look for a Starbucks–we’ll go get a hot chocolate.”
Yup. I got my child high to keep her awake for 90 more minutes. And it worked. She’s sleeping like a baby at 7:30 p.m. So there.