Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Good Ridance Easter Bunny

I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I hate Easter!

I do. I disliked it when I was a child. I ignored as a young adult. Now, as a mother, I have learned to loathe the holiday with great zeal.

Before I tell you more, and for fear of insulting those who adhere to the holiday’s true beginnings, I apologize. I don’t know where this Easter Bunny character came from. He bears no resemblance to either Mary or Jesus.

I am done with him. He should go back where he came from. Yes, I am a bunnyist.
The Easter Bunny is not cute, in any of his reincarnated versions, stuffed, chocolate or other.

Hiding those plastic eggs is insufferable! How did a bunny get involved with eggs? Pastel colored eggs. It’s unnatural, I tell you.

I abhor putting candy in the eggs. I detest the fake grass that sticks to anything, months later showing up in the corner of the closet, in the ubiquitous clump of dust, missing sock, and Lego…mocking me.

What exactly is the relationship between an egg bearing bunny and candy? Loading the kids up on candy or listening to them whine, beg, and prostrate themselves at my feet all for a piece of refined white sugar is not my idea of a good time. And now, apparently I'm supposed give them money and toys, too! A mother has to put her foot down somewhere. Oops! Did I step on your little bunny ear?

Mass Easter egg hunts…since when are those fun? I stand on the side lines and watch our kids fight over some random egg-shaped piece of plastic that holds a single piece of half solidified, corn syrup egg shape drug, tastelessly colored with red dyes #2 and #6. I am repulsed at my desire to deck a kid 1/4 my size for taking the one egg my youngest managed to see. And just like testing shows how well you test, mass egg hunts show how well a kid can grab eggs from the ground and other unsuspecting children. I don’t think that’s a resume “builder” quality activity.
I could tell my three kids that Easter Bunny no longer visits us and teach them the term “good riddance.” Or I could claim the Easter Bunny died, cruel, but yet so very satisfying. I could share with them the evil, secret side of the Easter Bunny that only a few chosen know. Or I could just play dumb. “What Easter Bunny?”

No matter what I choose, I am hipped to the Easter Bunny and his unnatural ways. This year, I have options. Look out, Mr. Bunny. When I catch you, I’m gonna stuff you with cheap chocolate and throw in a few peeps for good measure. I’ll wrap you in plastic grass then coat you with red dye #3, #5 and #7 colored corn syrup. Then I’ll let the sugar-stoked children from the egg hunt play with you. I don’t think you’ll be back.