Easter, Therapy, and Deadly Legumes

Here are some of the things that amused me this week.

• Wendi Aarons threw down the new rules for Easter Egg hunts.
• Jessica Bern reminds us to think twice before asking for the credit card customer service manager.
• Sugar Jones implores us to resist the draw of the sexy Peekaroo.
• Munchausen by Peanut – Laura Bennet and the rant I wish I’d written.

Who else should we be reading?

The Case of the Easter Bunny

I admit it: I can’t wait until the days when the Easter Bunny no longer hops by our house. It’s not that I don’t like holidays, I just can’t take the pressure of having to be responsible for making them happen. And the trouble with children is that you can’t pull much over on them, especially when they seem to be on the elementary school track for pre-pre-law.

This is the story of one Easter Eve a few years ago. I lay in bed trying to fall asleep amid some low level tension because something just wasn’t quite right. Suddenly I bolted up, frightening my husband out of a sound snore.

“Oh crap!” I said, “I’ve got to do the Easter baskets!” I got up, turned on lights, rummaged through the guest room closet for baskets and candy, and set about making the sweetest little tokens of love from the Easter Bunny. I put them in the kids’ doorways and went back to bed, where the father of my children was sleeping just as peacefully as before my crisis.

In the morning the kids came to our room to show us their loot. My then six-year-old daughter looked up at me with genuine curiosity. “I wonder why the Easter Bunny gave us the same baskets as last year?”

Note: If you’ve been reading this column long, you already know that the Easter Bunny is a touch stingy. She doesn’t really see the point in buying new baskets year after year, and this was the year she decided to test her theory that the kids wouldn’t really notice anyway.

“Mom?” my daughter asked, “Are YOU the Easter Bunny?” Leave it to the little one.

I shook my head and offered up a little snort. “Do I look like I’ve been out all morning hopping around dropping off Easter baskets?”

She eyed me, weighing whether or not to push the matter. She was holding a bag of sugar after all. Finally, the little lawyer-in-training just wouldn’t let it go. “It’s just that you said the Easter Bunny was a girl AND the Easter Bunny knows what kind of books we like AND —-“
Maybe Mommy needed a basket full of Midol. I snapped. “I’m not the Easter Bunny. Okay?”

Everybody backed off the bunny.

When they asked later why the Easter Bunny didn’t give them very much candy this year, I told them maybe she knew they’d be getting a lot of candy at the Easter egg hunt that afternoon.

“Not that I would know,” I added. That was my fatal mistake. If this were a Grisham movie, there would be a close up on me as a bead of sweat made it’s way down my nose.

“Are you sure you’re not the Easter Bunny?” my son asked. His eyes narrowed. “Because usually when people say ‘not that I would know’ it means they know.”

It’s getting hard to come up with smart remarks, but not impossible.

“And usually when a kid asks too many questions about a basket of candy, it means they go to bed early and a monster comes in the night and eats all their candy.”

Case closed.

Image Credit: ButterflySha, Flickr

Like This? Try These:

• New and Improved Mother’s Day
• Not the Only Bad Mother
• A Case for Arts in Education
• Show Me the REAL Texts

Rushing the Seasons

Okay, so I meant to write about this back in August, but life and deadlines got in the way. It was a crisp morning, one of the first cooler days we’d had in a long time. I was really enjoying my run and the comfortabel weather when I saw the first one. Prominently displayed on some over achiever’s immaculate entry was a Halloween decoration. Remember, it was still August, I swear.

Now, before you get all defensive and give me some crap about it was a ‘fall’ decoration. No. Not even. Last I checked, pumpkins = Halloween. Black ribbon? So witchy! I jogged along on my merry disgruntled way thinking that some people just can’t enjoy the moment. They’ve got to rush every single thing. Considering I may not ever get around to putting out anything remotely cute, you may think I’m just jealous. Maybe.

So I sort of got over it. To each his own and all that. I ran, enjoying the fresh, sweet air.

But then I saw another one. That’s two items of Halloween decor spotted during what is arguably the pinnacle month of summer. What’s wrong with you people?

Now, of course, it’s mid September and I’d say a solid one fourth of festive folks are setting out the Halloween props. I have even been sent a save-the-date for a Halloween party. Hold on while I check the calendar… Seven weeks. That’s how long until Halloween. Can we please, please, please just enjoy the crumbs of summer? Please? How about we wait until say… a month before the actual holiday to start decorating and celebrating? Any takers?

Because I can play that game too. Don’t make me break out the Easter bunnies.