That Wascally Wabbit
“Did you kill the Easter Bunny?” Isn’t every mother accused of vehicular manslaughter during the morning drive to school? I didn’t kill the big guy, but I may have critically injured a distant relative. He came out of nowhere. I was driving along, marveling at the sunshine when I saw a flash of white followed by a loud thump. I cringed, thinking I ran over a squirrel. It was even worse. “Mom, you ran over a bunny!” Well, it wasn’t my fault. My daughter was the one who had to wrap a DVD moments before we were set to leave. She has become the queen of re-gifting. It has gotten to the point where she is giving away other people’s s**t. She decided my mother would love the “Lion King 1 1/2” DVD. My 6-year-old was less than pleased, “I like that movie.” My daughter didn’t waver, “Too bad, grandma has never seen it!” Needless to say, we were late again. If we had been on time that bunny would have crossed the street and gone on to live a life doing what bunnies do. I couldn’t tell a 4-year- old it was her fault, but I could think it.
I wanted to tell her there was no such thing as an Easter Bunny. There are so many questions she should be asking about that story. Why isn’t Will Smith going on a mission to save planet earth from 6 foot tall rabbits? You’re afraid of flies, but it doesn’t freak you out at all that a giant bunny sneaks inside our house while you sleep? Why does he want to give you candy? He doesn’t even know you. I love you and I hide candy from you on a daily basis.
My daughter is oblivious and even wanted to send a letter to the Easter Bunny with her demands. There is no need to write because it’s not your birthday or Christmas. There won’t be toys piled in a basket. Things have gotten out of control. Actually, maybe I should have killed off the Easter Bunny today.