Easter has come and gone. This Easter was interesting, to say the least. We did the typical things. The night before we dyed Easter eggs, and set out a carrot for the Easter bunny and sent the kids up to bed. We laid with them to make sure they were really asleep. Finally- they were out for the count. We had the house to ourselves.
So, we played the piano. Then we had a conversation at the top of the stairs. My husband asked, "Where is the stuff for the baskets?" "They are in the closet, but don't stuff and hide the baskets without me. I am going to take a shower, can you do the dishes? Then I'll come down and we'll make baskets." He went down stairs and I got in the shower and not a minute after I got in the shower, I heard the door open and my 7 year old's voice. "Mama, I can't sleep." I paused in horror. "You were sleeping." "No, I was just pretending. I was trying to...." No. This cannot be. My heart sank. She heard us playing the piano and talking about making the Easter baskets. It was too horrifying for words. I told her to go back to bed and I dried off and put on my PJ's. She looked at me suspiciously when I walked in her room. But she didn't say anything about anything. She knew. She heard it. I died inside a little. I laid down with her and rubbed her back and tried to get her to sleep. I waited...and waited....and dozed off....and waited...... She didn't fall asleep until 11:30 pm. What.the.heck?
I crawled out of bed and we made our Easter magic. Although I was exhausted, I found myself outside in my front yard in my pajamas digging in the dirt to make mud to paint bunny prints on the floor. My husband chewed the carrot. We go through this big charade even though I know that the kids cannot possibly believe in the Easter bunny still. They are realists. They can't possibly believe that a giant bunny makes baskets and hides them in our house when they are sleeping. But, whatever. I will be the Easter bunny until the kids go to college.
We stuffed the baskets and got ready to hide them. I hid one behind the couch, under our blanket pile. My husband just put one in the corner.
One does not simply leave Easter baskets out in the open.
"You need to hide it better than that." He sighed, "You're mean." I'm not mean, but I'm going to make them work a little bit for it. My parents used to hide our baskets so good that we used to cry and they would have to do the hot-and-cold game. It was serious business.
We crawled into bed at midnight. The kids actually let us sleep until 7 am, which was bizarre. They came down and searched for their baskets.Then they dug through them and ate their goodies. There was an element of excitement missing. I realized as I sat on the couch watching them, that my children are no longer believers - but pretenders. Any believing my 7 year old had was ruined by us the night before. It made me sad a little bit.
We made a HUGE breakfast and listened to Jesus Christ Superstar. It's a tradition. One of my favorite memories of Easter was when I was a young teen. We didn't go to mass that year and my dad was feeling really guilty. He has this Catholic guilt thing. So he decided that he was going to listen to the Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack instead while he made breakfast. You know, in place of going to church. It makes me laugh, but every time I hear that soundtrack it reminds me of Easter. Of my father, barely older than I am now, in the kitchen making a big Easter breakfast....
We ate, went to church, had dinner with my family and we felt incredibly blessed. It was a great day! But I still think my 7 year old will need therapy.....
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