Easter

On a trip to the mall last week, my little gal and I walked by the ornate Easter village erected to take photos with the Easter Bunny. While the big guy sat motionless on his throne, I wondered what my not-yet-four-year-old daughter would make of him. You see, unlike Santa, I've never brought the kids for the annual Easter photo op. Maybe it's because I always thought that the bunny was just a bit odd. As a kid, I never bought that the large, matted bunny with the muffled voice was supposed to be the real E.B.

Suddenly, the rabbit stood up to pass out some coloring books. Phe stopped, a tad startled that a giant stuffed animal had moved.

Then she turned to me, a bit relieved, and said, "Oh, that's not a real bunny. It's just someone in a bunny suit."

* * *

This morning, we couldn't sleep in. We had to get ready for church, go to lunch at my in-laws, and eat a hearty breakfast of chocolate eggs. I woke my daughter with a kiss and whispered, "I wonder if the Easter Bunny came?"

To which she sleepily replied, "No. He's still at the mall. He can't drive. He wears slippery gloves."

I'm not sure what she'll make of the tooth fairy.