Easter and Bourbon.

Synonyms? Perhaps, if you are the parents of this little human.

Today was a beauty of a day. Sun glistening on the foreheads, beaming light from the shimmer of sweat. Warmth, but not the unusual hot mess we have been dealing with. Seasonable as some weather personnel have eluded to. The correct ratio of clouds to ever blue sky. Just perfect.

It is Easter weekend. The Christmas of Spring. Bunnies are bountiful. Fur pelts are plenty! Kidding.

Our complex treated these little people to an Easter egg hunt. Hundreds of eggs thrown about on the freshly manicured lawn. One problem. The eggs were empty. What kinda person does that to a little human. HAHAHA, I hate you little devils......I will place hundreds of eggs at your disposal and watch you cry sweet tears as you open them and realize you get nothing.  Yeah, that sums it up. As children began to melt down before our eyes we could see this was not going to end well. Our biggest one had a chance to partake in this torture and loved being outside. He hunted eggs feverishly (I assume, expecting there would be a prize awaiting him). With each passing egg, you could see the emotions setting in. Why am I doing this if I am not getting rewarded? Hunt over, we decided to play a little on the pathetic playground our community owns.

Big mistake!

The poor little guy didn't want to go back home. He gained nothing from the eggs. He wanted to take the slide home. He was beginning a meltdown of epic proportions.

Bourbon would be the only cure for this parents insanity called, parenthood.

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