I had a feeling early this morning that something had gone wrong. Soon enough, we learned that someone had broken into the house.

The kids were the first ones awake. They woke us in bed. "Mommy! Someone left stuff all over the dining room!" We rushed downstairs to see what had happened.

In two woven baskets on the dining room table was an abundance of chocolate and candy. The kids started to paw at some of the items on the table.

"Don't touch anything!" I said. "We want to preserve the scene for the police!"

"No, Daddy, no!" Riley replied. "Don't call the police. It was just the Easter Bunny."

That "Easter Bunny" had struck again. I'm not sure how he keeps getting into our house. Presumably he enters via the same vector as Santa Claus, who also somehow seems to evade the traps I lay in the fireplace flue every year. Why these vandals keep entering our home and tempting our children with candies and gifts is beyond my cognition. I am beginning to suspect a man on the inside helping this miscreants, but who?

"Where are those blasted cats?" I demanded. They're certainly doing nothing to ameliorate the situation, allowing bunnies to run rampant inside the house. Phobos looked up at me innocently, as if he was oblivious to the whole event. Deimos stared at me blankly from across the kitchen, as if he'd been traumatized at the sight of some overlarge rodent. My hope that their presence would deter the Easter Bunny was clearly unfounded.

I poked at some of the candy as the kids pulled toys and stuffed animals from the basket. It was inevitable that they would eventually try the candy and subject themselves to unknown potential rabbit-poisons. Berta sacrificed herself first to test the stranger's candy by eating one of the chocolate and peanut butter eggs. "Seems safe," she said.

I was skeptical, so I risked tasting a malted ball egg of my own. I lived. The kids took a couple of carrot-shaped chocolates to nibble and danced around the dining room with stuffed bunnies from their baskets. They promptly named them Chester and Emily.

Next year, Easter Bunny. Next year...

A month or two ago, Abby and Berta had tickets to some musical, so I decided to get monster truck tickets for Riley and I so that we could have a "guy's day out". That didn't work out so well. They warn you that the trucks are going to be loud, and we had earplugs, but they weren't working. Riley was rightfully scared of the noise, and so I bought him a set of the wheel-shaped earmuffs that they sell at the concession stands.

I put it on his head and he started yelling about how he didn't want to wear them. They hurt his head. Granted, they were tight - they'd have to be to stay on. But if you left them on for a little bit, you'd get comfortable with them and they'd block the noise well. He wasn't having it. There was no convincing him to keep them on, thus there was no convincing him to stay. More than $300 in tickets (I had to buy three for the two of us, and they were really good seats because that's all they had left by the time I found out the girls weren't going to be home and decided to do this) down the drain.

Today, the girls are out again at another show. In spite of the last time, I do like having alone time with Riley to bond. I clearly don't have enough, because we've had another failure. And this time, it wasn't something as scary as monster truck noises.

Every year, the neighborhood plans an Easter egg hunt around the landscaped cul de sac that ends our street. There are plenty of kids, and each parent brings 12 plastic, candy-filled eggs to hide for each child that comes to hunt. With the girls away, it's just up to me and Riley to go do the hunting.

So we assembled the eggs and went up to "the circle", as the kids call it. Riley and I stood around with the other kids and parents, waiting to begin. Now, the kids must all go someplace to hide themselves so that the parent can hide their eggs in secret. All of the other kids left running toward our neighbor's yard, and Riley just stood there.

"Go hang out with the other kids while I hide the eggs," I told him. But he wouldn't go. I tried explaining the whole process of the hunt again, in case he didn't quite understand. "Just go hang out with Gracie and George (our neighbor kids from across the street) until we're done hiding the eggs." He wouldn't go.

Steve, Gracie and George's dad, helped try to persuade Riley to go with them. Riley said he didn't want to be alone. "Alone? All of the other kids are there! And I'll be right out here when we're done hiding the eggs." He wouldn't go. "Ok, I'm going to count to three, and if you don't go over to the garage with the other kids, we're just going to go home. One... Two... Three." Didn't even move.

So we went home without hunting for eggs.

I feel bad for Riley. I don't know how you get like this as a kid, being so timid. Abby is this way too, a bit. They won't approach anything new, and they don't want to be left alone. It's really aggravating, not just because I know it's not good for their personalities in the future, but also because it's making me miss out opportunities to be with the neighbors instead of sitting at home alone. Ironic, that. I wish I knew better whether Riley and Abby are truly socializing at school; making real friends.

This is clearly all my fault, but I haven't the slightest idea how to correct it. More play dates? Therapy? I need therapy, at least.