I Am the Easter Bunny

I’ve never hidden the fact that I am the Easter Bunny in this house. The kids know that it is me who purchases the little trinkets in the baskets at their places on the table on Easter morning.

This year, I sunk to a new low, however, and put the baskets on the dining room table last week and started putting things in. There’s a basket for each of the kids and one for my husband. The kids walk by daily to see if there is anything new.

Last Friday M asked where my Easter basket was. I told him I didn’t have one, that I didn’t need one. That I enjoyed doing the baskets for each of them and their dad, and that was enough. I mean that.

This did not sit well with M, however. He started to ask where we had other baskets. I said I didn’t know. The truth was I would have had to stop and think about it and I was pretty focused on some cleaning at that moment (a fairly uncommon event, mind you).

M went searching around the house, and soon was rummaging around in the basement. A few minutes later, there was another basket on the dining room table, and in it was just one item: a sheep made out of clothes pins, a piece of paper and some cotton balls. M had made it for me at his afterschool program.