JC should have been quite happy, since he got a hardboiled egg for breakfast. He apparently slept while we were at my in-laws', but as soon as we got home he wanted a long walk, and then tried to figure out how to get a second hardboiled egg. He kept circling the table with the Easter basket and mewing, but when that didn't work he shifted to harder tactics. That meant: 1) sitting on the table next to the basket, making big eyes and looking adorable, 2) "angling" an egg out of the basket with his paws (which took quite a while), 3) playing with the egg on the table, 4) "accidentally" pushing the egg off the table, 5) being disappointed that the shell only cracked, 6) batting the egg around the floor, against chair legs, etc., until he could get at the contents, and 7) yowling for mommy or daddy to come peel the egg properly so that he wouldn't have to eat pieces of shell. All this while we were trying to watch "Bridget Jones' Diary", and pretending not to notice what he was up to, since this is an annual Easter ritual. At the moment he is curled up in bed with his daddy, sleeping off his "cholesteral overdose", and the eggs are in the fridge, so that we don't have an Easter Monday repeat.