After spending an afternoon handing out easter chocolates, I will be glad with this particular religious festival is over.  Chocolate and extra kilos aside, it has coincided with B's obsession swinging from people in authority with a uniform to one person in authority in a loin cloth - The Big J.  Very helpfully, the school have been fanning the flames of his obsession, supplying him with a high volume of religious information in a coloriage format which is throwing up all sorts of questions.  Sadly none of which I know the answers to, forcing me to toss aside Roald Dahl of an evening and reach for the My First Bible for our bedtime story because I cannot stand the nitpicking that goes on of my poor theological knowledge.

This morning, even before I'd had my first sacred expresso, B started quizzing me on what did the Romans do to Jesus and why.  Cut me some slack.  I cannot actually function without high levels of caffine so I rattled off a thirty second frank rundown on events as my cup filled.   Job done, turned round and B had crumpled with misery into his coca-pops because the Romans had nailed a really nice man to a cross because they thought he was trouble.  S tried to jolly him up with a "Did You Know That?" Jesus's nom de famille was "Christ" and that their Playmobil Romans were the good guys because there wasn't a cross in the set but it didn't work.   Because I had ill-spent all my time in RE lessons writing irreverent captions under the drawings in my St Mark's Gospel I had no great insight to soothe the situation; B was still sobbing when we finally got round to putting shoes on and S tried to drown it out with a monologue mulling over why the Romans didn't make Jesus fight the lions instead of putting him on a cross - "because he would have definitely won against the lions".

I'm worried that unless some divine intervention occurs during the Easter Break to give me strength and some bona fide answers, I may not actually survive these holidays.  If the worst comes to the worst,  I guess I could always check into a crap hotel for two weeks and live off chocolate.  Mmm.  I might even find time to flick through the hotel issue Gideon bible whilst I am there and could leave with more solid religious foundations.  And possibly very wodgey thighs from eating all that chocolate.  Mmm.  Maybe I'll just tough it out.