Tuesday, March 29, 2016

The Easter Bunny Is Not Real

After I got the girls to bed on Saturday night, I filled their Easter baskets and then hid them so when the girls woke up on Sunday morning they could do the usual search and find process that they’ve always enjoyed.

As I was looking through the living room and family room for the perfect hiding places, Tom said, “You know, whenever you want to stop doing this, I think the girls would be okay. Olivia told me today that the Easter Bunny isn’t real.”

I glanced over at him and shrugged. “I kind of knew the girls no longer actually believe the Easter Bunny brings the baskets. I mean, they’re thirteen and nine. But I like doing this. And now that I get credit for it, I like it even more.”

He shrugged back at me and went back to whatever he was watching on television.

He’s always been kind of meh about Christmas and Easter. He’s always thought I go a little overboard on it all.

But then, let’s all remember that this is his second time around. He’s done the Christmas and Easter merry-go-round for, oh, thirty or so years. So I’ll give him a pass as long as his comments are as benign at the one about Olivia and the Easter Bunny.

I like to remind him that we are A’s and O’s only celebration. His older kids, by the time they were the girls’ ages, were celebrating with their mom and step dad and then with Tom so they didn’t need him to do quite as much. Since A and O are so unlucky as to have their parents actually still be married all these years later (watch my eyes roll out of my head) it’s our job to celebrate these things with them.

In the end, I just like doing Easter baskets and dying eggs. I like shopping for the perfect Christmas present for my girls (and my mom and my brothers and my nephews and okay, and my husband.) I like wrapping presents and hiding baskets. So even if he doesn’t, it’s not like I’m asking him to actually do any of the work. He just needs to sit back and smile as the girls happily go through their baskets, oohing and ahhing over their treasures.

Honestly, it’s not like I’m asking the poor guy to dress up as the Easter Bunny and hide eggs one Sunday a year.


Swistle said...

My parents continued with Easter baskets (well, not literal baskets after a certain point, but a bunch of Easter candy) into my mid-twenties, first mailing them to me at college and then to my various apartments. I have a very happy memory of being poor and living in our first apartment together, and a PARTICULARLY large box of Easter candy arrived. When I moved back to their town with my firstborn is when I think they stopped (I don't remember noticing), but they still give me a chocolate bunny every year!r

Julie said...

I love that you still do that for your girls! I'm sure they love it too.

Tommie said...

I think my mom stopped giving me presents at Easter was the year Alyssa was born. She stopped giving my next younger brother presents the year his first son was born and I think she still gives my youngest brothers gifts because he hasn't provided a grandchild on which to lavish all the presents.