left beside a note on the kitchen bench,
and biffs it in the rubbish,
hitching his jeans up with one hand
as he surveys the surfeit of chocolate
resplendent on the dining table.
"They won't notice if I eat just one,"
he says, stealing a foil wrapped egg
from the glass bowl that used to hold
hen's eggs above the microwave.
I smack his hand and he laughingly dodges,
throwing it in his mouth before it's too late.
I roll my eyes at him. "Time for bed, bunny."