In Which I Admit I'm a Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Mother (Or, I Didn't Fix My Kid an Easter Basket)

This is the post in which I admit that I'm a terrible, horrible, very bad mother. You see, my kid didn't get an Easter basket this year. Usually, he gets a nice basket with a chocolate bunny, a small toy or two of some sort, and some candy. This year, he got nothing. No. Thing. No basket, no chocolate bunny to chew the ears off of, no toys, nothing. I didn't even take his picture in his nice mint-green dress shirt, green/white/blue tie, and khaki pants. Tooz took one of him in front of the cross at church, but other than that - nothing. (BTW - Tooz, can you e-mail me a copy of that photo?) In my defense, I smashed the absolute heck out of my finger the day before - the day I had planned to go candy and toy shopping. Instead, after I smushed my finger all to hades and back at 7 a.m., I climbed into bed with a bottle of leftover prescription painkiller liquid. I still can't feel parts of my finger. I did manage to go to Walgreen's the other night in search of medicine to treat the mangledness that is my finger. There, I found a chocolate bunny of the kind he likes (and won't kill him to eat) on sale, and bought him one (and myself one, too). And I did manage to find one lonely little bag of pretty pastel Easter-dressed Hershey Kisses. Out of guilt, I bought him a small LEGO set at (insert big-box retailer name here) Sunday night. But none of it ever wound up in a basket. I think I'm going straight to parent Hell.