Yesterday was Easter and we actually had a great one. Last year we were at the hospital waiting for Lev to be born, and he eventually was, our perfect little Easter Jew baby. I should just leave most holidays up to my sister, because instead of formalities and dressing up, they would involve guitar sing-alongs and children eating grass. In many ways, she is definitely the smarter of the two of us.
A couple of things about Easter. I guess maybe this will be a bit of ranting about holidays in general. You can tell I’m getting older and lazier, because when my son came home from school last month and started complaining to me that “the leprechaun” never visits our house, I was like WHAAAAAT THE HELL. He tells me that some kids in his class get a visit from “the leprechaun” on St. Patrick’s Day and he leaves treats and toys and all this shit. So that’s when I lose it and start hollering that “the leprechaun” is NOT REAL and it is the parents who are leaving all this crap and that St. Patrick’s Day isn’t even about that, anyway, and HAS YOUR TEACHER TAUGHT YOU WHAT ST. PATRICK’S DAY IS REALLY ABOUT??
I don’t think so.
I also think the parents who are pretending to be a generous little Leprechaun should find something better to do, like go watch some porn or knit a scarf or something. Seriously.
Beatty gets all frustrated and hollers back at me, “It’s about THE LEPRECHAUN! AND THE GREEN!!”.
So I snort and laugh and really want to tell him it’s about beer and corned beef. Instead I say, “Ok, I’m going to Google this because I admit I can’t quite remember myself what it is about, but we are going to find out the TRUE meaning of St. Patrick’s Day!”.
So Beatty just stares at me and says, “Gosh. Take all the FUN out of it, why don’t you.” And he left the room.
I lay down on his floor for a little while and racked my brain trying to remember what St. Patrick’s Day is based on, and then I never Googled it because Sloan started yelling at me that she had to pee.
Anyway, two magical people in one year are enough for me. Meaning Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, who both can be so amazingly creepy I just don’t even know where to start. Who else can offer kids treats and make them cry at the same time?? NOT MANY, FOLKS. I very much enjoy laughing over the excitement and dread they inspire in children. Screw the leprechaun. I don’t have time for him.
My sister pointed me to a website that was featuring a post titled “45 Easter Bunnies More Terrifying Than a Crucified Man Coming Back From the Dead“. A little long-winded and very politically obvious, yes. I suppose they make their point. But they are on to something here, because every time I’ve seen someone dressed up as an Easter bunny, I feel a very strong urge to pull off their fake, vacuous eyes and karate kick them in their bunny gut.
When my sister mentioned this, it reminded me of our Easter three years ago when we went to brunch at the country club and Beatty participated in an “egg hunt” inside the tennis bubble because it was pouring rain outside. Which was less like a hunt and more like little kids running around picking up candy that was tossed all over a tennis court. There was this Easter bunny there who completely freaked me out. He was sort of like a half-man, half-rabbit concoction lurking around with one of the ugly forest-green polyester napkins from the country club shoved in his basket. He did not smile. Children did not approach him. Nobody wanted pictures with him. It was actually quite priceless.
So I searched through my photo files and found him for you.
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And of course I have to show you some of my favorites I found on that creepy bunny post. And of course I had to name them all for you.
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And even though this year Sloan cried for at least thirty minutes with real tears and snot dribbling out her nose because the Easter Bunny accidentally put the Elmo bubble bath and mini M&M’s into her big brother’s basket, I still don’t think she was as ticked off as she was when I dressed her in this Easter getup:
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I’m just going to have to blame that outfit on some kind of post-partum crazy, because I definitely wasn’t smoking pot and I’m not colorblind. Sloan, I’m sorry.
And next year the “smart” Easter Bunny will drink less wine and try to stay awake long enough to make sure the right things get into the right baskets. At least the pink and purple Crocs ended up in yours. So quiet down, darling.
PS – I bet those people from that other website don’t leave treats from “the leprechaun”, either.