MARK MY WORD: EASTER IS OVER, BUT THE CHOCOLATE HORDE REMAINS

Easter is over, but the chocolate horde remains.

Our daughter, Becca, loved Easter. Over the weekend, she charged through several Easter egg hunts, which netted enormous quantities of chocolate candy.

There were gobs of chocolate Easter bunnies and eggs, which seemed to instantly melt on our 3-year-old's face and clothes.

It's amazing just how much candy and chocolates you can fit into an Easter basket, along with the traditional colored eggs.

By Sunday afternoon, Joni and I were thinking of hiring armed guards to keep our child away from all the goodies.

By that time, she'd already managed to eat enough candy to send her into a lunar orbit. Any minute, I expected to see her transformed into a giant, chocolate bunny.

Becca liked all those plastic Easter eggs. Unlike the real ones, they had candy in them, and they didn't crack when she slam-dunked them into the Easter basket.

We did the usual Easter eating-out thing Sunday with two other couples, who also are parents, and thus understand the necessity of bringing along the kids.

There were a dozen of us in all -- six adults and six children. As it turned out, we could have used armed guards or at least a police escort.

Every Easter we go out for food, friends and fellowship. We imagine having a nice relaxing meal, only to find ourselves rushing through the meal so we can leave before our children turn the dining area into Earthquake 101.

I'm convinced that you get amnesia once you become a parent. Without it, no self-respecting parent would ever think of eating out with their children, unless they were over 21 years of age.

The outing didn't start out well. First, the waitress couldn't find a highchair for the youngest member of the entourage. Then, she knocked over a glass of soda on the table. And that was just in the first five minutes we were there.

There was a mirrored wall at the end of the table, which gave the kids plenty of opportunity to make silly faces.

Kids don't eat like adults. They either consume it all in three bites or they pick incessantly at the food. The longer they pick at the food, the more it seems to bond to the plate in some sort of permanent gastronomic display.

Fortunately, we made it through the meal without a major dry-cleaning bill.

We left and went our separate ways.

Back home, Becca began exploring the house for signs of stray Easter chocolates. It's uncanny how she can detect stray candy, but find it nearly impossible to locate her shoes in the middle of the living room.

Fueled by a treasure-trove of chocolate, Becca headed for the backyard swing.

Suffering from some heavy-duty allergies, I stayed indoors and left the human bundle of energy to Joni's care.

By Sunday night, Becca was in full orbit, with no sign of re-entry.

But after a bath, where we cleaned away all those chocolate scars, Becca cruised back to bedtime.

Monday morning, she was still talking about the Easter candy.

She asked me if it was still Easter.

"No," I said, "Easter is over."

But I don't think I convinced Becca. After all, she knows that Easter basket is still full.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.