There is no such thing as the Easter Bunny by Margaret Hart
Our family had a lovely holiday weekend. My parents and sister visited from Maine and we all enjoyed several days of family bonding and fun, culminating in a mini egg hunt for my son and my sister, and a delicious dinner on Easter Sunday.
As I do every year, I purchased a cute new Easter basket for my son and filled it with a chocolate bunny, some jelly beans, and a few other assorted candies. When we went outside to start our egg hunt, I announced that the Easter Bunny had come and left Easter baskets. There they were, my adorable Easter baskets, gleaming in the sunshine, perched on the steps of our front porch next to the Daffodils. My son looked at the basket, then looked over at me and smirked. “Mom, you did this,” he said. “There’s no such thing as the Easter Bunny.” I probably smirked right back at him. I tried to put on my best poker face. But it didn’t work. He knew. The jig is up.
Who knows how long he has known. Maybe he knew last year but didn’t let on. Still, my son, and my sister, enjoyed their Easter baskets, and running across the yard to hunt for the brightly colored eggs I had tossed on the grass in plain sight. It was the thought that counted.
A couple hours later, we all sat down and enjoyed a delicious ham (if I do say so myself), mashed potatoes, peas, and crescent rolls. This was the simple yet wonderful meal my mother always made when I was growing up. For dessert, we all chomped on our bunny-shaped cake pops. Bite sized cakes mixed with butter cream and dipped in chocolate. So decadent. Yet, with cake pops, you don ‘t feel as guilty about the calories because it’s just a bite!
My house is quieter now and feels a little bit lonelier since everyone left. It’s always the way. I stress, I prepare, I get excited. Everyone arrives, everyone has a great time, everyone leaves. And my house is left empty and silent. Just a few extra toothpaste drips on the sink, some beds to strip, and lots of fun pictures to look at and memories to hold dear.
I have to admit that I’m feeling a little melancholy about the Easter Bunny; next year the Easter basket will be from me and my husband. I wonder, does this mean that Santa Claus is next on the list to be disavowed? I love watching my son grow up. It’s a joy to see him discover new things, push boundaries with his independence, and begin to express himself in more mature ways. Along with this joy, there is often a sense of loss, having to leave behind many childhood traditions as he grows up.
When my poker face wore off, I admitted everything. “Yes,” I told my son. “I made the Easter baskets because the Easter Bunny was very busy this year and he asked me if I could help him out!” My son just smiled broadly, and then popped some jelly beans into his mouth.