We spent Easter with my brother’s family and my parents up in Maryland. Bertrand and I rented a car, drove up, and spent a lovely day eating delicious foods, watching the kids hunt for Easter eggs, and celebrating my dad’s birthday. No dinosaur comments allowed.
My mom, bless her heart, made Easter baskets for the kids. I love the piggy bank, then gave her hell about the sparkly lip gloss, boa, and diva sunglasses. Jasmine is the girlyest of girly girls. I don’t know where she gets it from, but damn. I love it, because there isn’t a lot more fun than buying sparkly clothes for a two-year-old, but I’m also fully cognizant of the societal factors and pressures that contribute to a two-year-old discovering her inner fashion diva. Sigh. This angry feminist has to keep reminding herself that trivializing and demonizing the feminine isn’t feminism, it’s snobbery.
Grace also got in on the fun by eating grass and gnawing on plastic Easter eggs. Yum.