Married … WithOUT children
“Here comes Peter Cottontail! Hoppin’ down the BUNNY trail. .” husband-head sang loudly, doing little bunny hops around the room. “Hippity-hoppity Easter’s on its way!”
I peered into his coffee mug – just to check.
“Honey, you’re a little old to believe in the Easter Bunny, don’t you think?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re NEVER too old to believe in the Easter Bunny,” he disagreed. “The Easter Bunny is my man! The Easter Bunny is COOL!”
Apparently so. In fact, according to reports, the Easter Bunny is so cool that he is now right behind Santa Claus in the religious-holidays-turned-commercial category. .
“We are seeing a lot of pressure through marketing to begin to expect a level of present-giving that (kids) get at Christmas,” a New York toy consultant was quoted in one article.
Ummm … a TOY consultant?
But yes, parents. Before you have even finished paying off those bills from Christmas, your little darlings are now expecting presents for Easter!
“I don’t like the Easter Bunny,” I announced to husband-head.
He stopped in mid-bunny hop and looked at me as if I were missing a colored egg or two from my basket. .
“Who doesn’t like the EASTER BUNNY?” he demanded. “What did the Easter Bunny ever do to you?”
“It’s not what the Easter Bunny did to me, it’s what my sister did to me,” I explained.
It was Easter morning and I was about eight years old. My younger sister and I had woken up early and were delighted by the big Easter baskets at the foot of our beds, loaded with chocolate eggs, jelly beans and marshmallow chicks – all tied up with purple plastic wrap.
“I have something to tell you,” my sister said confidentially. “I saw the Easter Bunny last night.”
“You DID?” I said incredulously and with a tinge of envy. “What did he look like?”
My sibling proceeded to describe the Easter Bunny in detail – from his enormous height to the color of his fur and his fluffy bunny tail. While I’d had some nagging thoughts about the existence of the big bunny, the fact that my sister had actually SEEN him dispelled all doubt.
Later that morning as we got ready to go to church, I asked my mom if I could skip Sunday School and go with her to “big people’s church” as I had something very important to say.
At the appropriate time, I got up and stood in front of the entire congregation to make my announcement.
“I just want you all to know that my sister SAW the Easter Bunny last night,” I said proudly. “And he’s not white … he’s BROWN.”
Everyone smiled, and I was pleased with myself for providing this kind of enlightenment to non-Easter Bunny believers. .
But when we got home, my sister looked overcome with guilt when she heard what I’d done.
“I have something to tell you,” she said for the second time that morning. “I didn’t really see the Easter Bunny. I just made that up.”
I was devastated. Here, I’d mustered all my eight-year-old courage to get up in front of the whole congregation and then proceeded to tell a blatant LIE – and right in church!
Husband-head laughed at me after hearing the story.
“So what did you do? Boycott the Easter Bunny?”
“Not exactly,” I assured him. “I pretended like I still believed because I wanted the candy. But from then on, I always bit the heads off the chocolate bunnies first.”
Husband-head looked horrified at the thought.
“Well, I don’t care what you think, I still believe in the Easter Bunny,” he informed me. “And he’s going to bring me lots of presents.” Husband-head then proceeded to carry on with his bunny song.
“You’ll wake up Easter morning, and you’ll know that he was there. When you find those choc’late bunnies … that he’s hiding everywhere!”
Heidi Rice’s column appears every Friday in the Post Independent.
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