I didn’t take any pictures on Easter. Well, that’s a bold faced lie – I took one. This one:
It’s the only picture I took because despite my husband being a practicing Catholic and my kids going to church with him, we don’t really do Easter.
Yes it’s partially because a certain handsome boy goes absolutely banana pants when he comes in contact with a bit too much sugar. But it’s also because of a douche bag known as the Easter Bunny. I hate that guy.
Last year, I got the kids hyped up about Easter. They were so excited! I even managed to hide little eggs with jelly beans around the house for them and told them the Easter Bunny did it. And yes, this is where the problems started. Bea started asking lots of questions – did I see the EB? Is the EB coming back? Why did he come to our house? Why jelly beans?
Bea also kept checking and rechecking the plastic eggs as if to see if there would be more jelly beans inside. So, I thought it would be funny when they were having lunch in the kitchen if I refilled the eggs. HUGE MISTAKE Lucien happily ate the new jelly beans and didn’t even question why there was new jelly beans. But Bea, she backed away from the eggs like they were poison and yelled “Easter Bunny is a sneaky guy!!” She was freaking out. She wouldn’t go upstairs to the bathroom – she thought he was waiting for her up there…
We ended up going out for a while but she kept freaking out so bad that I had to reveal to my two 3 year olds last year that the Easter Bunny was fake. You’d think that would solve it, but no. It didn’t. They actually are still completely terrified of the Easter Bunny! I think for a whole Bea thought he lived in Lucien’s closet and was laying in wait to murder all of us – we actually put a lock on the outside of the closet door, to keep him in, and that seemed to help a bit.
Fast forward to this year – he went to their school, because he’s a jerk. And the night before Easter, Bea asked if daddy could sleep on the couch downstairs so he could be a line of defense against the Easter Bunny going upstairs. And she also asked if I could call the EB and see if I could meet him outside to get their baskets. The whole time I was saying, “you mean the baskets is bought you because the Easter Bunny is fake?” But they’re believers, that he’s real despite what I’ve been telling them for a year. I also think they think the EB has moved out. I told them he went on vacation to Disney a few months back and they said EB wanted to move in with Mickey and Donald. I’m glad they’re all in the know of someone they know is fake.
I suppose this is sort of funny to hear, except when you see them be completely freaked out. I mean, I laugh about it – I think they will too when they’re older. Mostly now it just means there’s a little handsome boy in bed with me in the morning instead of my husband.