04.20.06
So I managed to not quite flub up the Easter Bunny thing, but it was a close call. I actually feel a little funny about making my kid believe in all the classic childhood fantasy stuff. Like I’m lying to her.
I’m a really bad liar. I have a hard time not giving up the game with eye-rolls and heavy sighs.
My kid’ll be the one in Kindergarten who tells all the other kids that there is no Santa Claus because Mom just couldn’t sustain the lie. She’ll be a heartbreaker at age 5. Oh dear.
The thing is, I had a really crazy week. The Wednesday preceding Easter I went to the Train concert in Minneapolis (which was fabulous, by the way), then drove home Thursday and went right to work. Worked till midnight, and back at work by 7 am on Friday.
Friday evening I was finally pulling the boxes of Easter decorations out of the upstairs closet. Easter baskets. Plastic grass. And two whole boxes that essentially contained rabbits. (Gee, honey, I swear there were only four rabbits in here when I put them away last year, now there’s twelve … damn rabbits, anyway). There was also an insane number of ducks and chicks in those boxes that I had no recollection of putting there. Now there’s something to twitch the imagination.
I looked around at the cluttered mess of my house and truthfully I just could not bear to add rabbits to the chaos.
So no decorations.
And no church. I don’t care much for going to church without a toddler in tow. With one it becomes a torturous ordeal.
It was Easter afternoon before I even realized I’d forgotten all about coloring eggs.
All the traditions of my childhood out the window. Well, except one.
Friday when we found all the rabbits I told my kid that the Easter Bunny was coming Saturday night to fill her basket with candy. She loved this idea. Totally.
“Easter Bunny? Bring me candy?” (Exaggerated Questioning Voice).
“Yes. The Easter Bunny will come while you are sleeping and fill your basket with candy and hide it in the house.”
“Oh man!” She does have a way with words, my Little Miss.
We never had Easter Egg hunts when I was a kid, but our whole basket would be hidden, with jelly bean trails left throughout the house. As an adult I realize jelly beans must be Easter Bunny poop. I bet my parents laughed about that. Or maybe not.
My husband actually did the Easter Bunny shopping. He bought weird stuff. Easter Hershey kisses with caramel and peanut butter inside, rather than rabbit-shaped chocolates. Easter-colored M&M’s. Whoppers Robin Eggs … good stuff. Not my childhood fantasy stuff, but still good. I had to catch him on the phone and whine a little to get him to buy the large hollow chocolate bunnies. Easter isn’t Easter without those.
He also bought a remote control Hummer.
Umm. “Who’s Easter Basket does that go in?”
As if I had to ask.
“Mine,” he said with a grin, “but the kid will love it.”
Now I have to hide a Hummer somewhere. Nice.
Easter Eve my girl went to sleep with visions of Easter Baskets and candy and bunnies in her head.
I went to bed hoping the stupid dog wouldn’t find the baskets, gorge on chocolate, and leave diarrhea trails throughout the house.
But it was all good. The kid found the baskets, the dog didn’t.
How does Mom know which basket belongs to who? Well … Mom’s are special that way (eye roll).
Tonight as she was getting tucked into bed my Little Miss said, “I like that Easter Bunny, Mom. Easter Bunny brought me candy… Oh no, Mom! I forgot to give the Easter Bunny a hug!”
“It’s okay, Sweetie, the Easter Bunny has to get in and out fast so he can get to the next kids’ house. And bunnies get scared real easy so they don’t want to be seen (eye roll, heavy sigh).”
Oh yeah, I am so gonna pull this one off again next year.
Sometimes you can remember last year’s lies. I probably won’t.
Reader Weekly archive: http://www.readerweekly.us/2006/367/Sheri_Johnson.html
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