I came downstairs on Easter morning to find the boys hunting for eggs, Easter baskets in hands.
"How many did you hide, Mom?" Will asked. "We don't know if we found them all."
The Easter Bunny, it would appear, has become a thing of the past.
I guess we never pushed the magic rabbit aspect of Easter too hard; in fact, I'm not sure we ever made a big deal out of it to Will at all. We've always dyed eggs, and on Easter Eve, the Man and I fill plastic eggs with candy and hide them around the family room for the boys to find in the morning, but we've never rushed the children off to bed the night before Easter, exclaiming the imminent arrival of the Big Bunny. And now, perhaps as a result of our bunny laxity, the Easter Bunny no longer exists.
I'm not against pagan rituals by any means; I put up mistletoe at Christmas, carve a jack-o-lantern at Halloween. Yet, in spite of the fact that I welcome chocolate into my home on the flimsiest of premises, the Easter Bunny just strikes me as silly. Yes, the rabbit is a symbol of fertility, eggs are a symbol of fertility, it all connects with springtime and resurrection; I get it. But where do the jelly beans fit in? The Cadbury cream eggs? Why is a rabbit coming into my house? Who gave him the keys?
So I'm glad to see the old guy go. Now I don't have to wait until midnight to put out the baskets and the eggs, just in case one of the boys wanders downstairs for a glass of water.
I suppose one day I'll be sad when the kids give up all their childhood rituals and beliefs; when Santa finally falls by the wayside, when coming up with a Halloween costume is no longer a month-long project and trick-or-treating a butterflies-in-the-stomach affair. It will be a little bit sad when they don't beg for birthday parties (in vain, for the most part, as throwing parties for children is all I need of Hell) or wonder how much dough the tooth fairy will drop under their pillows.
But will I miss it? The holiday hoopla? The staying until 2 a.m. on Christmas Eve putting out presents? The frenzy of getting the pumpkin carved before it's time to don costumes? Oh, maybe a little.
But I won't miss the bunny. And if I see him in my garden eating my peas, he's toast.
Your Tiny Hand Is Frozen
1 hour ago