It's not long before Easter is upon us and with it the inaugural school Easter hat parade.
All around the country, creative (or not so much in my case) mums and dads desperately rifle through their existing craft boxes. Ours consists of some (no longer) sticky tape, a few random sequins, dried out glue and a pair of broken scissors. Say no more.
Other parents head to the shops where they wave goodbye to their hard earned cash. In exchange they leave with an overflowing bag of 'Easter crap'. The shops rub their hands in glee.
A (usually) unattractive Easter hat is then thrown together. Cue, random combinations of multi colored feathers and 101 drunken fluffy yellow chickens.
Then there's the parade.
This joyful event involves watching 250 children strut around the playground with said hats. There are those that are obviously 'child made' and those that are clearly not. For some parents, it's kind of an unspoken competition.
You see your child walk past for 30 seconds and then have to endure the remainder of the time trying not to look at your watch. Trying to sneak out is only asking for judgement from others.
A good couple of hours is dedicated to sitting on tiny chairs where your bum goes numb and your ears bleed as the school band screeches out something resembling music.
The parade 'after party' then sucks another hour out of my day and my soul. I have to enthusiastically pass compliments on children's hats. I then join the paparazzi mum pack for the requisite #easterhat #livingthedream #bestparadeever pic of my son. By this stage all he's focused on is the cupcake stall and emptying my wallet.
Four years in, he's at an age where I'm actually quite embarrassing - at least until I serve a purpose.
But, thankfully, this year we'll miss the hat making and, more importantly, the parade. Excuse me while I take a swig of wine.
I know it's miserly. I know many of you are going to comment that 'they're only little once', yadee yada ya. But still, it's a bore I can live without.
I see my child every day. He doesn't look all that different with chickens coming out his head, and he hardly even notices I'm there.
It feels better knowing I'm not alone. A girlfriend only told me today that she hates the hat making/parade so much, that she offered her girls the day off school instead. No prizes for guessing what they said.
So, while I sit on the plane en route overseas, I'll drink to those parents down below. I'll drink to the ones who enjoy the whole thing – I take my Easter hat off to you - and I'll drink on behalf of those who don't.
Things are what you make them people say and I agree that is true. But, when it comes to making Easter hats, I'm happy to bow out. I'll just eat Easter chocolate instead.