For my childhood, we were given a new book instead of an Easter egg and an egg hunt I once had for my birthday party was boxes SunMaid raisins hidden in a laurel bush followed by homemade sugar-free banana bread so I am determined to be indulgent and dosed in sugar but also put minimal effort as it turns out an unexpected side-effect of a hippy upbringing is chronic laziness.
Here is my guide to a chocolate-heavy, low-input Easter fest.
Buy all the tat from Poundland. £25 should do it. Mega bags of eggs. A set of bunny ears. A set of reusable plastic spoons. Paper plates with garish gurning rabbits on. A dozen water pistols in case the weather is good.
Cook a sty-load of sausages. Crack open a fresh bottle of ketchup. Slice up some cheap, sweet hotdog buns.
Put a note on the door pretending the bell doesn’t work and advising people to just come in. It saves you having to hover about and sets the ‘serve yourself’ tone.
Put the kids in front of Peter Rabbit film whilst you get your sister/other adults to scatter eggs about in the garden. Sternly discourage the children from peeking as that’ll cut down the ‘hunting’ time and that’s no good.
Rules. Ensure they know they have to find an egg, return it to the basket and then go and find another. It ekes it out.
Sit back. Relax. Swig beer.
Get a couple of the older, more savvy children to rehide handfuls of the eggs in a never ended cycle of hiding and seeking. If the younger children lag, feed them a few eggs and pip them up again for another round. Keep relaxing.
When the novelty fades or the penny drops, it’s time for another game. Line them up line a firing squad, give each child a spoon and an egg and then tell them that the tree in the far distance and if they drop their egg they have to start again. This can occupy at least three days. Voila!
They’re pooped. They’ve covered at least 8km. They need carbs. Serve up those hotdogs. They’re nice and cool by now so no fussing. No cutlery needed. No washing up needed. Smug.
There isn’t a step ten. You don’t want to be reaching double figures if you’re lazy. You want to just catch the last of the sun’s rays and watch over-hyped, sugar-giddy children tear around the garden whilst you and the other adults graze on cold sausages and the smell of Spring.