Enter Easter bunny

My daughter wears those Easter goggles into every store we go into these days. She wore them to the bridal shop where we were fitted for our dresses for my brother's wedding, to the grocery store, the pharmacy, and the Benjamin Moore dealer today where we bought paint for the nursery.

The staff at the store always say, "Oh, look! It's the Easter Bunny!"

My daughter replies, "No. No, it isn't."

"Oh," the retailer/cashier/store owner says, sounding disappointed. "But you LOOK like the Easter bunny."

"No," my daughter says, "I am just wearing sunglasses."

Advice of the week: If you're trying on your bridesmaid's dress and 8 months pregnant, don't do it among a party of tall, thin bridesmaids belonging to another party and the bored mother of the bride of yet a third party. Because, every time a bridesmaid emerges, the mom says, "Ooh, that looks divine. Is that chiffon?" or "That dress looks like it was made for you". When you stumble out of the dressing room in a dress made for someone about a foot taller than you with the dress so large on top your cleavage is spilling out, and under the empire waist the silk clings to your round belly, the mom audibly gasps. I must've shot her an annoyed look, because you could see tiny wafts of smoke coming from her ears while she struggled to come up with something nice to say to the semi-crazed looking preggo in an ill-fitting frock. "It's really a lovely color," she choked out finally.

In less polite circles, she would've just said, "Moooo."