"It is a wise father that knows his own child." William Shakespeare "The Merchant of Venice", Act 2 scene 2

Categories: uncategorized

Date: 22 April 2003 15:14:00

A conversation in the office the other day sparked off a memory from my childhood, and since Easter has just passed I thought it'd be quite appropriate. It really made me smile because this particular memory was a wonderful display of love. I haven't any rugrats of my own as yet, but a few of my friends do so it's easy to see from a grown-up's perspective how people get over their kids.

When I was about ten and living in Johannesburg, my mum came over to England on a holiday to surprise my Grandmother for her birthday. This trip coincided with Easter and so at the time, being the eldest, I was a bit concerned as to whether my siblings and I would be remembered by Dad, aka the Easter Bunny. How very silly of me to worry, since on Easter Sunday Dad woke us up (it was very chilly, lots of dew on the grass) and sent us into the garden to look for eggs. If I remember correctly, there was a very well thought-out hunt with clues and everything which led us to the most wonderful array of eggs- all hand made!

Dad had obviously stayed up in the evenings making a great variety of chocolate goodies for his loved ones- there were real eggshells filled with chocoate, there were white chocolate lollipops, there were nests of little eggs... it wasn't unlike a mini Willy Wonka's factory in our house that Easter Sunday all those years ago. I think I might go and email my father in a minute, just to remind him of that and to say thanks again- at the time, I childishly enjoyed the chocolate. Now, I can enjoy the fact that Dad would never forget anything important (no matter how trivial) to his kids, and never has.