One fine Easter Eve, my father came into the bedroom I shared with my sister and declared, “I see the Easter Bunny. Look! Look out the window. There he is!” From my vantage on the top bunk, I looked out somewhat excited. “That’s the Eyre’s dog, Dad.” “Nope, I’m pretty sure that’s the Easter Bunny. He can take the form of other animals to fool you. Look! He’s going up to that other house!”
By this point, I had extreme doubts of the verity of the Easter Bunny tale, but I still felt a little excited. A thrill ran through me as my Dad told me about the other forms the Easter Bunny could shape shift into. Could it possibly be?
This year I seriously considered foregoing the Easter Bunny. I don’t like dishonesty, and as Easter morphs into an ever more commercialized spring version of Christmas, it does bother me. On the other hand, Fluffy still believes in magic. She’s always asking me where the real enchanted forests are and whether unicorns are real. I hate to curtail any of that. I loved believing in magic and fairies. Maybe it is just the Eyre’s dog, but the possibility of something magical seems a pleasure worth preserving.
The next night, I pulled back the Holly Hobby curtains just to check. There was the Easter Bunny sniffing around all the houses in our neighborhood (what’s a leash law?) as per usual at this hour.
Thanks for trying, Dad. I still appreciate the effort.
|Easter Table in Fluffy’s favorite colors: pink and green|
|For all my talk of disliking the commercialization of Easter, there sure was a lot of plastic pink grass and bunny iconography in our party decor.|
|For our Easter party, I hung egg hunt signs all around the house. Fluffy, Liz and I also dyed a lot of eggs and put them in nests on almost every flat surface. Very festive.|
And, in case you missed it, here are my little munchkins on their first Easter Sunday!Pin It