The first encroachment on my Easter Egg eating rights came 3 years ago when we were at my parents house for the holidays. As usual, I received a gluttonously large amount of chocolate and so did my Father. The problem was that for the first time, we were unable to wallow around the lounge room groaning under the weight of our sweet, sweet bounty. If we did, then by rights the boys should be able to have some as well. In case you're not aware, 2 year olds and large amounts of chocolate don't mix very well and it’s quite impossible to hide it from them.

At first we tried to trick them.

“Dad, what are you eating? Is it chocolate?”

“No son it’s just a carrot.”

“But Daaaaad carrots aren’t that colour! Show me the carrot you’re eating! Hey you’re eating Easter Eggs aren’t you!! Where’s my Easter Eggs?! I want my Easter Eggs!!! EEEEEGGGGGGSSSSS!!!!”

After being outsmarted by 1 and 2 year boys, we were forced to indulge in hiding. No longer could I laze on the lounge, lovingly cradling an Easter Egg bigger than my own head. Instead, if we wanted any of the good stuff we were forced to hide out in our rooms and lock our doors as if we were 14 year olds armed with an underwear catalogue and a box of tissues.

And so it has been from that year to this. While kilos and kilos of chocolate lay hidden in my wardrobe, mocking me from the musty darkness, I'm constantly monitoring the boys for the slightest sign of tiredness. If only the boys had a sleep I could have some chocolate.

“Don’t you feel tired boys? Wouldn’t a sleep feel so good? I wish I could have a sleep. Sleeps are sooooo much fun. Hmmmmm sleeeeeeep."

But no. Of course even the small amount of chocolate they are allowed to have is more than enough to keep them wide awake.