What Easter looks like when your nine months

I’ll be honest…my very first Easter did not start well. I decided on the Saturday before that those parent people had had a good run at sleeping; I’d let them have a reasonably good two nights rest so enough was enough. After screaming a lot every hour on the hour that mother one relented and took me into their bed. I love it there normally but like I said; they’d had a good two nights.

I started off with just a bit of wriggling and squirming which is usually enough for me to get on that mother ones boob but she appeared to be a bit stubborn last night which I thought was totally unfair given it was technically Easter Sunday and she should be more Christian about things.

When she finally caved I decided a bit of kicking, pinching and then biting would suffice as punishment. She started to get a bit stressed then.

When they started to turn on each other for my lack of sleeping I started to feel content and when that mother one snapped that she was going to get a bottle I knew I’d won. Of course I didn’t want the bottle but thought it was hysterical that she’d been downstairs in the dark and then found the cheese and butter that the father one had left out.

I went to sleep just as she started crying that the cheese would have to be thrown out.

Then in the morning that mother one banged on about how I was exactly nine months old. She did that thing where she talked me through the events of the day I was born like she’s done at the one, two, three, fourth month stage and so on so on.

It’s getting a little boring if I’m honest but if that wasn’t bad enough she put me in this outfit that I can only describe as ridiculous. It had ears and a carrot and she kept cooing about how cute I looked whilst that father one shook his head and said things like ‘you are simpling her.’


To be totally honest it was slightly scratchy and a little warm but I decided to humour her a bit before I released the scream.

Then those grandparents came over, the really crazy ones as opposed to the slightly crazy ones. They brought me a huge stuffed rabbit which I thought was totally amazing. Sometimes that mother one gets it completely wrong but the nanny one gets it spot on. I show my appreciation by shouting at the bunny and trying to eat its labels.

As everybody stood around and laughed at my ears that mother one popped me in that ball pit thing, that I can totally escape out of now, and her and the father one both disappeared only to return in matching ridiculous outfits just like mine, so if it wasn’t bad enough that I looked like a complete and utter idiot then we all did!

All three of us with stupid ears and scratchy suits!

That father one did not look amused but the mother one was nigh on hysterical. ‘Look at your little tail.’ She kept saying to him and he continued to shake his head. The grandparents also thought it was very funny and that grandmother one kept crossing her legs and holding her face.

Then we all had to have our photographs taken. I usually like having my photo taken but like I said I was hot, the suit was scratchy and to be truthful everyone just seemed to be having too much fun. I wanted to be back in that ball pit with that huge rabbit in my mouth not stood around smiling getting sweaty.

So I started to cry but all that did was trigger more photographs because apparently a miserable little bunny made a good photo. In the end that mother one relented again and stripped me back down to my vest and put me back in the pit. There was talk of the photographs making a profile picture but that was that.

When everything calmed down that father one tried to explain about some fella being put on a cross, taken off a cross, rising and then moving a rock. It was all a bit confusing but he redeemed his boringness by breaking a bit of a hot cross bun off and plopping a too bit big in my mouth. That mother one stared flapping and I decided to cough a bit just to heighten the fun. There was a little bit of chaos and then they got down to business by giving me a bit of an egg.

Oh my goodness, I thought she couldn’t top the booby milk after she’d eaten ice cream but oh my god…I can’t wait for next year!