The Triduum and Rabbit Scat

Waylon spied the stash of hot wheels cars for his Easter basket earlier in the week. It's my fault, really. They were in the back of the van, and he can smell hot wheels cars almost as well as he can smell chocolate, so I should have known better.
We have a tall cabinet in our master bath that we use as a fallout shelter for anything that we don't want Waylon to smell- and consequently eat- at 3am. Cookies for the kids school program, a birthday cake for a party the next day, also my tampons, incidentally. Although this cabinet is safe from Waylon, it is not safe from me- occasionally the stars align, and there is a box of 12 Star Crunch Little Debbie's waiting for tomorrow night's T-ball game my PMS induced hunger pains.

On Holy Thursday the cars moved from the back of the van to the fallout shelter. The sweet boy who did not put words together until he was in elementary school said "Presents? No presents till Christmas!" approximately 10 million times in one hour. In Waylon language, this phrase is roughly translated as "I know you've hidden my cars. When in the &@$! are you going to give me them?" Not today, buddy.

On Good Friday, when I picked Waylon up from therapy, I made sure to let him know we were not going home, we were going to Uncle Chris's house. (Because you can't be springing new things on him unless you want to meet Satan.)
On cue, he said "No presents till Uncle Christmas house?" ("Am I getting the #$%* cars today?")
Not today, buddy.
So he said, "Not toDAYYYY, not toDAYYYY" approximately 10 million times during the car ride. (Waylon language translation: "This is taking FOR-EV-ERRR".)

Later that evening, we set out our baskets just in case the Easter Bunny decided to come early. (I had to work at the hospital on Easter Day.) When the Easter Bunny went to check the baskets early Saturday morning, she stepped in puke. I'll give you a hint: it wasn't actually the Easter Bunny. Someone had been up and eaten approximately 45 Reese's and barfed them right in front of my fireplace. Also, the runny poo in the bathroom carpet was not characteristic of rabbit scat.
Also, it smelled like poo, not Reese's. (I had to check.)

The Easter Bunny came on Holy Saturday. Waylon found his cars. We colored eggs. He mutilated his basket.

 

 

Travis took the "day off" while I took the kids to Grandma's to color eggs- and that evening when I brought up how exhausted I was from the day, Trav said "Don't start with me- you get to go to work tomorrow." Touché.

My mom (my Simon of Cyrene), offered to keep Waylon and Lucy at her house during Easter Vigil Mass so we could just sit (and kneel and stand and sit). Bless her.

So on Easter Sunday, I went to work at 6am with the joy of Jesus Christ in my bones because He is risen! and There was no poo or puke to clean up! And also because I was enjoying my first cup of coffee in 40 days.

On Easter night I came home to this:

 

R.I.P. Easter basket.

Those #$%! cars though.

I hope this Easter season brings new life into your homes, new joy into your hearts, and the ability to see peace and serenity amidst the chaos of everyday happenings.

And I hope the Easter Bunny didn't leave scat in your bathroom.

Happy Easter, friends!