“Can you all get out of the kitchen!”
“But I’m bored,” says Nick.
“Why don’t you make that Easter collage with Hari,” his mum insists, looking at me meaningfully. “If you’re not going to help me with the cooking, find something else to do.”
It pays off to feign a lack of culinary interest at Easter time. It’s just too much hard work.

“Are you free to babysit on Friday?”
“Err, do you mean like, little kids?”
The flashback to snotty noses and crying babes sent a cold shiver down my spine.
“Umm, no thanks,” I replied politely. “I’d rather stay home and study.”

“Do you want a coffee?”
“Yes, I’d love one,” I say as I settle myself on my friend’s sofa.
“Good. Make me one while you’re at it,” she quips.
Have you noticed that only a best friend will tell you to make your own coffee when you go over for a visit?

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our Big Fat Greek Easter Show,” Nick announced with a flourish. “We've got an exciting performance for you this afternoon and we hope you enjoy it.”
Aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins cheered in rowdy applause as the curtains parted, while Jen and I were discreetly positioned behind the handcrafted stage.
We’d spent weeks rehearsing for our live puppet show which featured an elaborate and colourful array of props and musical performances.

“Eeeeew. Stop it! That's disgusting.”
Jen always objected to her parents’ public show of affection, even if it was only at the dinner table.
Nick, on the other hand, was an astute observer of the world around him. “Are you two tongue kissing?”

_Kid 1:  Are you a real elf?
Me:      Of course, I am.
Kid 2:  But why haven’t you got pointy ears?
Me:      Not all elves have pointy ears.

“Here,” said my cousin, plonking Olivia onto my lap. “Can you feed her while I hang out the washing?”
As she perched on my knee, my six-month-old niece gazed longingly at the jar of baby food in my other hand.
Right, I thought. How hard can it be to feed a baby?

“Why are you still in your pyjamas?” I asked, horrified, “The movie starts in half an hour!”
I frantically got the kids dressed, brushed their hair and headed out the door.
“But we haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“What…” I spluttered, “have… you… been… doing all morning?”
“Playing.”

“What are you doing here?”
“We miss you.”
“Sorry, but you can’t come in,” I said.
“Please?”
“No. Parents aren't allowed,” said Jen.
“But it sounds like you’re having more fun out here,” they pleaded.
“That's because we are,” Nick confirmed.

“You know how you’re not married?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“And you know how I’m not married?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we could get married to each other.”
“That’s a great idea!” I responded, gazing lovingly into Nick’s gorgeous, brown eyes.