The past couple of years Easter has brought some unwelcome excitement.  Two years ago it was a frantic 911 call when DynaGirl woke up in the middle of the night (early Easter morn) with the worst asthma attack ever.  And when I say frantic, I mean frantic.  My husband later told me that at one point the 911 operator asked if he could please tell his wife to calm down.  I’m sorry, but if your child had passed out and was completely unresponsive wouldn’t you be screaming her name?  Fortunately, my husband saw the wisdom in not acting on her request.  So one police car, one fire truck, one paramedic ride and 3 hours in the emergency room later we were back at home safe and sound.

Then last year, just a couple of days before Easter, our kitchen table bench fell on DynaGirl’s foot and broke her big toe–a break that required a trip to the orthopedic specialist (because it had broken on the growth plate) and a walking boot.  We have some lovely pictures of her in her Easter dress with that enormous black boot.  I’m not exactly sure what was the point of seeing the orthopedic specialist.  He confirmed that it had broken on the growth plate, and then said there was a chance that toe would stop growing, but that there was nothing they could do about it.  OK.  DynaGirl was slightly alarmed at the possibility of having a stubby toe.   Our conversation about it went something like this: 

DG:  Am I going to be a freak, Mom?

Mom:  Maybe, sweetheart, but you’ll be a beautiful, kind and compassionate freak who is very smart and draws great pictures.

DG:  Will I still be able to wear flip flops?

Mom:  Sure.

It’s important to focus on the positive.  I think it’s still too early to tell on the toe–it looks like it might be shorter, but I imagine that might be because we’re looking for it to be shorter.  Only time will tell.  Needless to say, DynaGirl was becoming less and less impressed with this whole Easter business.

So this year when I woke up Easter morning after a wonderfully uneventful night’s rest, I was optimistic that perhaps the Easter curse had been broken.  I busied myself in the kitchen preparing this and that, and there was no burning, breaking or exploding of any kind.  All seemed right in the world until I went into the laundry room.  Oh calamity!  Oh horror of horrors!  Oh six-legged little black beasties!  Ants!  Bah!  I spent the next hour clearing out my laundry room so that I could hunt them all down and slaughter them properly.  I killed them–I killed them all!  Well, probably not all of them, but all that I could see, and then I got out my Ortho Home Defense bug spray and sprayed down all my baseboards.  I’ve used it in the past and it works great.  I just spray it at the first sign of trouble and then I don’t see another ant all season.  The product also suggests spraying the outside perimeter of your house to keep them from coming in, but I suspect that they’re coming from underneath my house so I’m not too keen on the idea of cutting off any possible escape routes should they deem my territory too hostile to be considered inhabitable and decide to get while the gettin’s good.  It’s day two, and no more ants.  I’m cautiously optimistic.  At least Easter is over and we’re all still alive.  Well, except for the ants.  Sorry, suckahs.

Speaking of plagues and pestilences, we had The Ten Commandments with Charlton Heston on for a few minutes Saturday night.  DynaGirl asked what it was and we told her it was a movie about Moses, like from the Bible.  She sat and watched it for a few minutes and then said, “So, is this supposed to be serious?”  I’ve never been sure myself.