This year was the first that I did not create Easter baskets for the Big Boys. I was distraught that I did not have time to make the usual “arrangements” for the “Easter Bunny” to bring them baskets loaded with Pringles, Cadbury Eggs, Fiddle Faddle and the other favorite treats he has always delivered. I felt like a rotten mother. The Husband poo-poo'd the notion claiming that it was highly unlikely that the Big Boys would hold it against me for not delivering them Easter baskets. They were, after all, grown men and probably stopped expecting Easter baskets from the Easter Bunny eons ago. Still, I felt like they might have been disappointed (they weren't). It was just lucky that I had a stash of Pop Rocks and Starbursts handy, and I was able to make sure that the Little Boys received their baskets from the Easter Bunny. Unfortunately, I didn’t wake up early enough to put them on the doorstep and the boys were already awake by the time I got out of bed, so I had to perform a charade of going out to get the paper which we haven’t subscribed to nor received since the Bush administration. T was as excited as ever to find his basket loaded with sweets and didn’t question how they happened to arrive on our doorstep, but J had already sniffed out the truth like an old fish.
“Hey Mom?” he said stuffing Starbursts in his mouth (before breakfast!).
“Yep.” I answered, peeling the first of about twenty-four hard-boiled eggs that would be deviled and carted off to my sister's house for the annual Easter Brunch.
“I know the Easter Bunny isn’t real,” he whispered.
“How do you know?” I whispered back.
“Well, for one, I found the candy stashed in the pantry. Secondly, I noticed that the Easter Bunny has human feet. And he was wearing Converse." (He was talking about the mall bunnies). "And," he continued, "we don't even get the newspaper."
"Did you tell your little brother?" I knew the jig was up and there'd be no sense in trying to change his mind. The kid is pretty smart after all.
"Nope."
"Okay, let's just keep this a secret."
And we did. I loved that J, number one, did not devour the stash he discovered in the pantry, and number two, allowed his brother maybe another year of childhood innocence. So, while I was proud of J for being able to restrain himself from eating the candy (which I know must have required super-human willpower) I was also just a little sad that my baby had outgrown the idea of the Easter Bunny--who, I still maintain, is alive and well. Even the Big Boys never question or doubt his existence. And I know that they do this to make me happy. And also, quite likely, so they can continue to receive the bounty of junk food bestowed upon them from their long-eared benefactor. I am sure that the Easter Bunny will return next year with a vengeance.
“Hey Mom?” he said stuffing Starbursts in his mouth (before breakfast!).
“Yep.” I answered, peeling the first of about twenty-four hard-boiled eggs that would be deviled and carted off to my sister's house for the annual Easter Brunch.
“I know the Easter Bunny isn’t real,” he whispered.
“How do you know?” I whispered back.
“Well, for one, I found the candy stashed in the pantry. Secondly, I noticed that the Easter Bunny has human feet. And he was wearing Converse." (He was talking about the mall bunnies). "And," he continued, "we don't even get the newspaper."
"Did you tell your little brother?" I knew the jig was up and there'd be no sense in trying to change his mind. The kid is pretty smart after all.
"Nope."
"Okay, let's just keep this a secret."
And we did. I loved that J, number one, did not devour the stash he discovered in the pantry, and number two, allowed his brother maybe another year of childhood innocence. So, while I was proud of J for being able to restrain himself from eating the candy (which I know must have required super-human willpower) I was also just a little sad that my baby had outgrown the idea of the Easter Bunny--who, I still maintain, is alive and well. Even the Big Boys never question or doubt his existence. And I know that they do this to make me happy. And also, quite likely, so they can continue to receive the bounty of junk food bestowed upon them from their long-eared benefactor. I am sure that the Easter Bunny will return next year with a vengeance.
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