You know what I’m talking about? You with me so far? Ok, easy now. There’s no need to nod so hard. You’re hurting my head.
If you’re (a) of a certain age (b) able to handle your dhrink you might be wondering how you know you are in the throes of a two day hangover. Let me count the ways.
It does exactly what it says on the tin/bottle/glass - it is Day Two and you still feel like crap.
You can’t stop eating. Everything. With a preference for chocolate. And lots of it.
Your concentration levels are vague at best. Was that sugar or salt? Coffee or gravy granules? Ah, fekit. You drink it anyway.
All of your reactions are delayed. It hurts to move your eyes.
You could sleep standing up. In fact, you suspect you may have just done so. One of the kids, whose name escapes you, is by your side. Their mouth is moving and words are coming out. It appears they are asking for something. You have no idea how long they have been there. That wall was so comfortable.
You can hear the furniture talking. It calls to you by name. Inviting you to sit down. Suggesting you bring a blanket and kick off your shoes. Just five minutes. Little ones.
Sound familiar? I thought so. After the Easter weekend I discovered another type of hangover.
A chocolate one.
For kids. Brought on as a result of all the chocolate they mainlined on Sunday. My boys didn’t receive many Easter eggs and for this I am grateful. Who needs 50 chocolate shells anyway?
The Easter bunny did his part all the same and left them each a little hamper consisting of a Lidl standing up bunny, an Aldi sitting down bunny, a Malteaster bunny, a teeny tiny Lindt bunny and a few chocolate Easter chicks thrown in.
Enough chocolate to start a sugar coma regardless.
I speak the truth when I say they ate nothing but chocolate on Easter Sunday. I actually begged one of them to stop eating it. It was gone beyond a joke.
The sugar come down on Monday proved to me that a chocolate hangover actually does exist.
So how do you know your kids are suffering from a chocolate hangover? Let me count the ways.
Laughter. But it is not ordinary, wondrous, I-could-listen-to-my-child-laugh-all-day laughter. Oh no! It’s of the manic, wide-eyed variety which quickly develops into howling followed by crying. It’s like the child is possessed – they are powerless against the emotions that have taken control of their bodies.
Whinging. Funny Voice patrol without the helium has taken up residence. There is an all-encompassing need to lean close to a sibling and talk alien-eze into their ear. The two day chocolate hangover, similar to the adult two day regular hangover, sees fit that the person is suffering from sensory overload. Hearing is heightened to the point of unbearable sensitivity. Thumps are delivered with fierce accuracy. Everything is felt a thousand fold.
Twitching. It’s probably not right to compare the twitching to animals in the last throes of life but I can’t come up with a better image at the moment. It starts small. Almost tic-like until it takes over and they’re up and racing around the place like Duracell bunnies on speed. One of them actually thought it would be a good idea to shut his eyes during the speeding. That didn’t end well.
There’s nothing for it except a gallon of coffee and a couple of hours in a playground where no-one can hear you scream. And you can sit on a bench and twitch away to your own heart’s content.