Once upon a time Thomas would FLY out of bed on Easter Sunday at an ungodly hour and RUN around following the clues. This year (which shall be the LAST year of Thomas egg hunts, this Easter Bunny has decreed) he had to be dragged out of bed and trudged around as if on a forced march. Still, he ate all the (Salzburg-purchased, often alchohol-tinged) chocolate...
(Oh, and midway through, we got a call from his Grandma, who asked what we were up to and I said we were doing Thomas's egg hunt. When I rang off, Thomas asked very anxiously who that was. Apparently he was terrified that it was some friend of his who would discover that he STILL searched for eggs...)
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