Monday - Hop this Way
Mar. 24th, 2008 02:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about the competing ideas that my husband and I have about the Easter Bunny, based on how the bunny hopped by in our childhoods. The rabbit did things differently at Jeff's house than he did at mine. Considering that Jeff and I are 10 years apart in age, this could either have to do with our parent's preferences or with the limited lifespan of rabbits in general. Regardless, the Easter Bunny made his way by our house yesterday morning, and despite a few inconsistencies in how Jeff and I explained the goings on, our 3-year-old son had no complaints.
It started with Jeff coming home from work early Sunday morning. I was just getting out of the shower, and our son was still asleep. We began to discuss how things should unfold.
"Did you put his basket in his room?" Jeff asked.
"No, why should I? I figured we'd have him open it out here in the living room."
Jeff looked aghast. "No, no, no. You're supposed to leave it in his room so he sees it when he wakes up, and that way he knows the Easter Bunny came while he was asleep."
"If he finds an Easter Basket in the living room, he'll still know the Easter Bunny came," I pointed out. "The rabbit doesn't have to come in his room."
Jeff sighed. "The Easter Bunny isn't like Santa Clause; you find your basket in your room with the Easter Bunny. It's your private moment, and you don't have to compete with everyone else for attention." This last thing was a moot point, since our son is an old child.
"He always left all of our baskets on the dining room table at my house," I told him, "There were 4 of us, so it made for one big Kodak moment that way. And we had to wait until we were dressed up in our church clothes before we could look and see what was in them."
"That's just silly," Jeff said.
I, as the Easter Bunny's official envoy in our house, ended up stashing my son's Easter basket in his room, though it didn't seem right or natural to me. He woke up, and was duly impressed with what the rabbit had brought him. Mostly, he got a lot of small toys. I discovered last year that an average-sized Hot Wheels car fits nicely inside of a large-sized plastic Easter egg. Hot Wheels, in my opinion, the best bang for your buck when it comes to little-boy toys. For about a dollar, you get a toy that delights them from the age of two until...I'm not sure. My step-sister's husband still collects them, and he's in his mid 40's. There may not be a cut off age to their appeal.
I don't give him a lot of candy, not only because it's not good for him, but because I hated the candy growing up. As a diabetic child, the candy the Easter Bunny brought me was sugar free, and if anything will curb your taste for candy, it's eating the sugar-free variety. It came in two kinds: chocolates that tasted like dusty soap, and hard fruit-flavored candies called Sorbies* (named for the alcohol sugar, sorbitol, that they were sweetened with). The thing about a Sorbi was that if you tried to bite down on one after sucking on it for a few minutes, it would fuse your top teeth to your bottom teeth and effectively seal your jaws shut. I learned this the hard way as a child. The first time it happened I kind of panicked. I couldn't exactly scream for help with my teeth stuck together. After a few minutes of tugging, the problem resolved itself, much to my relief, but it happened again every time I ate a Sorbi because I would forget. The experience made me distrust candy. My son gets toys.
Once Jeff and I resolved the issue of where to leave the basket, we ran into another conflict as Jeff sneaked out to hind the eggs.
"In a little while, we'll go hunt for the Easter eggs outside," he told our little boy.
"The Bunny hid those eggs we colored yesterday," I chimed in.
"No, the Bunny brings the eggs," Jeff whispered to me in an aside.
"How can the Easter Bunny bring the eggs when we colored them here yesterday?" I whispered back. "He remembers coloring them. He put stickers all over them, and he's going to recognize those eggs. The rabbit hides the eggs we colored; it only makes sense."
Jeff agreed, and went out to do his duty as a rabbit. I should have done it, because my memory is better. My husband ended up forgetting where he put some of them and had to go on an egg reconnaissance mission after the hunt was over. Our son hunted his eggs and seemed to enjoy himself despite any question of their origin. After a few specimens cracked from being hurled with great enthusiasm into his Easter basket, he even learned to place put them down gently. Only about a third of this year's eggs wound up broken, compared to last year, when almost all of them sustained massive damage.
All and all, it was a nice Easter. The Bunny was good to my boy, even if there was some confusion about how the holiday should unfold. At our house, though, confusion is the rule and not the exception. Perhaps it would be better next year if Jeff and I get our Bunny tales straight before Easter rolls around again.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
* If I remember right, that is; I'm not sure about the spelling. The company seems to be out of business, and for good reason.
It started with Jeff coming home from work early Sunday morning. I was just getting out of the shower, and our son was still asleep. We began to discuss how things should unfold.
"Did you put his basket in his room?" Jeff asked.
"No, why should I? I figured we'd have him open it out here in the living room."
Jeff looked aghast. "No, no, no. You're supposed to leave it in his room so he sees it when he wakes up, and that way he knows the Easter Bunny came while he was asleep."
"If he finds an Easter Basket in the living room, he'll still know the Easter Bunny came," I pointed out. "The rabbit doesn't have to come in his room."
Jeff sighed. "The Easter Bunny isn't like Santa Clause; you find your basket in your room with the Easter Bunny. It's your private moment, and you don't have to compete with everyone else for attention." This last thing was a moot point, since our son is an old child.
"He always left all of our baskets on the dining room table at my house," I told him, "There were 4 of us, so it made for one big Kodak moment that way. And we had to wait until we were dressed up in our church clothes before we could look and see what was in them."
"That's just silly," Jeff said.
I, as the Easter Bunny's official envoy in our house, ended up stashing my son's Easter basket in his room, though it didn't seem right or natural to me. He woke up, and was duly impressed with what the rabbit had brought him. Mostly, he got a lot of small toys. I discovered last year that an average-sized Hot Wheels car fits nicely inside of a large-sized plastic Easter egg. Hot Wheels, in my opinion, the best bang for your buck when it comes to little-boy toys. For about a dollar, you get a toy that delights them from the age of two until...I'm not sure. My step-sister's husband still collects them, and he's in his mid 40's. There may not be a cut off age to their appeal.
I don't give him a lot of candy, not only because it's not good for him, but because I hated the candy growing up. As a diabetic child, the candy the Easter Bunny brought me was sugar free, and if anything will curb your taste for candy, it's eating the sugar-free variety. It came in two kinds: chocolates that tasted like dusty soap, and hard fruit-flavored candies called Sorbies* (named for the alcohol sugar, sorbitol, that they were sweetened with). The thing about a Sorbi was that if you tried to bite down on one after sucking on it for a few minutes, it would fuse your top teeth to your bottom teeth and effectively seal your jaws shut. I learned this the hard way as a child. The first time it happened I kind of panicked. I couldn't exactly scream for help with my teeth stuck together. After a few minutes of tugging, the problem resolved itself, much to my relief, but it happened again every time I ate a Sorbi because I would forget. The experience made me distrust candy. My son gets toys.
Once Jeff and I resolved the issue of where to leave the basket, we ran into another conflict as Jeff sneaked out to hind the eggs.
"In a little while, we'll go hunt for the Easter eggs outside," he told our little boy.
"The Bunny hid those eggs we colored yesterday," I chimed in.
"No, the Bunny brings the eggs," Jeff whispered to me in an aside.
"How can the Easter Bunny bring the eggs when we colored them here yesterday?" I whispered back. "He remembers coloring them. He put stickers all over them, and he's going to recognize those eggs. The rabbit hides the eggs we colored; it only makes sense."
Jeff agreed, and went out to do his duty as a rabbit. I should have done it, because my memory is better. My husband ended up forgetting where he put some of them and had to go on an egg reconnaissance mission after the hunt was over. Our son hunted his eggs and seemed to enjoy himself despite any question of their origin. After a few specimens cracked from being hurled with great enthusiasm into his Easter basket, he even learned to place put them down gently. Only about a third of this year's eggs wound up broken, compared to last year, when almost all of them sustained massive damage.
All and all, it was a nice Easter. The Bunny was good to my boy, even if there was some confusion about how the holiday should unfold. At our house, though, confusion is the rule and not the exception. Perhaps it would be better next year if Jeff and I get our Bunny tales straight before Easter rolls around again.
* If I remember right, that is; I'm not sure about the spelling. The company seems to be out of business, and for good reason.
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Date: 2008-03-24 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-25 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-24 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-25 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-24 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-25 02:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-25 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-25 02:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-24 10:07 pm (UTC)Greg hates all that "tradition". We actually fought about it at Kmart. "Just because YOU guys did that doesn't mean WE have to do it!!" But I love that part of it. Sometimes I get the girls sundresses that are casual enough to wear all summer and sometimes it's a summer outfit. Kmart had crap for cute little girl clothes...so it was moot point.
I asked him what we should get them. "I don't care...Just hurry up!!"
Men... ;P
At least you little boy was happy!! *HUGS*
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Date: 2008-03-25 02:45 pm (UTC)I miss getting a new Spring dress every years. It's not as much fun when you have to pay for the dress yourself. :P
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Date: 2008-03-25 03:50 pm (UTC)Me too, and you're right. :P
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Date: 2008-03-24 10:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-25 02:50 pm (UTC)Our baskets came stocked with plastic goody-filled eggs, but the hunt for the real ones was my favorite part. It was a contest, and we kids got competitive to see who found the most eggs. Most of them wound up as psychedelic-looking deviled eggs served with Easter dinner.
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Date: 2008-03-25 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-25 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-24 11:43 pm (UTC)The Easter Bunny used to hide baskets at my house. One year I could NOT find it - I was at the point of having a teary meltdown - and the whole time it was on my bedside table. I woke up so excited to go looking for it, that I didn't even notice it right next to me.
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Date: 2008-03-25 02:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-26 11:41 pm (UTC)