Today My Parents Told Me I “Ruined Easter”

Happy Easter Sunday everyone!

Okay, the title of today’s post has probably got you wondering already, so I’ll just get right to it:

All my life, Easter Sunday has been a pretty special day.  I have fond memories of waking up bright and early, grabbing my wicker basket, and then exploring all the nooks and crannies of Ash Manor for jelly beans, colourful Easter eggs, and best of all, the occasional well-hidden chocolate bunny!

Now that I’m older though, I don’t get to enjoy that particular experience anymore, but I guess that’s all part of growing up, isn’t it?  Two years ago my Mom and Dad informed me that they were going to retire the tradition.

The following year (last Easter), things felt very, I don’t know — “hollow,” you might say.

It was quite the adjustment.

So this year I decided to make an adjustment of my own!

Much like the old days, I got up bright and early, just as the sun was casting an amber glow on everything through the windows.

My goal was simple: I wanted my parents to experience some of the joy and excitement they had given me with the annual Easter egg hunt each and every year for a couple of decades.

I obviously knew I wouldn’t be able to fully repay them, but I worked swiftly and with great zeal to ensure this morning would not only be a magical, but one they would always remember!

…at least I delivered on the latter.

I first grabbed a piece of chalk from the dartboard in my room, then got straight to work.

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My Dad is usually up rather early, and because he spends a fair amount of time in the basement, tinkering away on various projects, that’s where I started. This is his workbench:

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The family home was built in 1909-1910, and back then there was really no such thing as a “finished basement,” which has always been kind of a drag…until now! What a great spot to draw!

“Good morning, Mr. Ash! Happy Easter! Rabbit-rabbit-hop-hop!”

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Just then, I looked over at my brother’s Ludwig drum kit, and it struck me as being a little dreary.

“Happy Easter, friend!”

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The staircase:

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Moving upstairs, I added a little Easter cheer to the door leading to the basement! “They’re going to LOVE this!” I thought to myself.

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“I’d better head to the second floor!” I thought, bounding upstairs to the computer room.

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While up there, I heard my parents stirring, and quickly hustled back down before they noticed me. Thank god! I didn’t want to ruin the surprise!

The dining room door!

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And finally, the dining room table:

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That last one there took the most time, obviously.

I rushed to complete it, and just as I was finishing Mr. Sun at the top there, I heard them descending the stairs.

Perfect! They were just in time!

My Dad called me, asking where I was.

I responded:

“In the dining room, Dad! Come on in! But as you do, make sure you clooooooose your eyes first!”

I knew this was going to be great, because I myself felt a twinge of the excitement I had felt all those Easter mornings.

It felt good.

My Dad entered.

…only his eyes were not closed, as I had requested.

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“…what the fuck is this supposed to be?” he said, examining all my hard work.

…uh-oh.

“Uh, Happy Easter, Dad!” I said to him.

But he wasn’t smiling. As my Mom walked in behind him and I read the expression on her face, my smile faded too.

“…my Irish linens!” she said. It had an air of disappoint rather than anger, though.

“Happy Easter, he says to me!” my Dad began again. “What is this, some kind of joke? Goddammit, put that camera away! This is not a family moment!”

“Dad, dad, it’s off! It’s off!” I insisted.

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My Dad made a moved towards the door, saying something under his breath. I couldn’t quite all of it out, though. I only heard, “…of this bullshit.”

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16 comments

  1. Easter Sunday was yesterday in Australia but this post still made my Easter. I too am very familiar with ‘ruining’ holidays- your parents’ faces say it all. Great post x

    Like

  2. I love how you use pictures to tell the story. I actually laughed out loud (spelled out fully because it genuinely happened. Like I’m not just typing out lol with a stony face). Nicely done!

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    1. Tom Green is Canadian, actually.

      In FACT, he lived in my very city. In my very neighbourhood, no less. 😉

      But yeah, my Mom’s expression there is pretty hilarious, huh? I like how ashamed / discombobulated it is.

      And my Dad’s just like, “To hell with THIS shit.”

      😀

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Really? I thought he was American! Could you edit the American bit out so I don’t look like a tool? I get the impression that this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like that – your post made me laugh!

        Like

        1. I’ll edit it if you want, but first I’ll need you to tell me how to do that. I barely know how to approve comments. In fact, why is that I have to approve my OWN comments while I’m at work on my mobile?

          You’re in the UK, right? England, I think you said. Yeah, you’d have no way of knowing that Tom Green, was Canadian, so it’s no biggie. He hasn’t done anything relevant in years anyway, so I’ve almost forgotten myself.

          I remember back in the day when I used to watch “The Tom Green Show” on Ottawa’s cable access show, though – that was cool. He was on the rise, and he didn’t care what he did.

          …I guess he and I are similar in that respect.

          Though I’d never suck a cow’s udder or hump a dead moose.

          ..then again, I don’t have a show.

          …but if I did?

          …maybe.

          Like

  3. Hilarious! And a reminder to keep my sense of humor when my kids are older and I actually think I can have nice stuff. Our kids are five and six and they are constantly wrecking sh*t. The hubs and I just look at each other and utter our standard, “Dude….ya can’t have anything nice with kids.”

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  4. I have just decided, sitting in midst of loud and silent and bored kids in the school library (on a painfully slow computer), that whenever someone would ask me who I’d like to grow up as,

    I will answer “I want to be like James Ash”

    Also I laughed so hard, there are real life liquid salty tears in the corner of my eyes.
    I think especially the dining table is absolutely beautiful.
    What did you brother say to the drum kit?

    Like

      1. Oh, up already!

        The school resources have no efficient use really, so blah. YouTube isn’t even productive on our PCs.

        My friends are mobbing me. Sarcastic little shits.

        Like

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