What do you do after a long week and a horrible day when the worry is eating you up and you wonder if you’ll ever get your footing when it comes to this parenting thing? Well, if it’s the night before Easter, you have to chat with the Easter Bunny and strategize, of course.
But you’re probably not feeling much like making trails of eggs to follow, or like writing little cutesy clue-notes.
In fact, you may be thinking that you don’t much care if the kids find the baskets at all. That’s not TRUE, of course, but you’re not in a very good mood.
But then a thought strikes you, see, and instead of adding to your general grumpiness, it suddenly feels like the funniest thing in the world, this idea, and you check with your husband and say “Can we even DO that? Would it be funny?” and he’s chuckling and shaking his head, and then he goes out to the garage.
And he comes back with a lightbulb-changing pole.
And at first you say no, but he assures you, no, really, it’ll work. It will.
And it turns out that he’s right.
So you hide the baskets and go to bed, and the next morning, your son comes down and watches cartoons for an hour in that very room, totally oblivious. And when you tell him he can start looking, he’s mystified.
His sister, on the other hand, walks right into the room and spots them immediately.
(There’s a lesson there in personality differences, but I’m not sure I want to know what it is, truthfully.)
The Easter Bunny has brought pool toys and chocolate bunnies and Fun Dip (“That Easter Bunny sure is smart, because I can just lick the Fun Dip and it won’t hurt my mouth at all!”) and wishing stones, and for one day, things are more or less okay—which feels like a fitting little miracle in itself.
And later, there will be a discussion of whether or not the Easter Bunny has somehow sprouted wings.