When Violet was three the Easter Bunny freaked her out. She woke up, screaming, yelling that the Easter Bunny had snuck into her room and touched her on her elbow. (I have no idea.) My husband had to take her from room to room and show her that the windows were all locked to prove that the stupid bunny could not get into our house. That was the year that outside egg hunts began - because the bunny was not allowed into our house. He left the baskets on the porch and hid the eggs in the yard.
This year I was running, uhm, slightly behind in my Easter purchasing. Behind in that I was at Target at 5 o'clock on Saturday night. So I talked with the kids and discussed that the big Bunny hides the eggs and Mom and Dad get them the cool gift -- because I needed to know what cool outdoor thing they wanted. I didn't have the time to run around town looking. They thought that was the coolest thing ever, and gave me a list of five thousand things. Well done.
About midnight Sarah began screaming. Screaming. (and when she screams? Glass breaks.) She launched herself into our bed, sobbing that she'd heard hopping. Hopping. Are you kidding me? My husband tried to console her. No, I did not try to console her. Why? Because I was laughing so hard the bed was shaking and I was crying. He was kicking me. Repeatedly. Pretty sure I'm bruised. When she couldn't calm down I told him, "Listen, Violet freaked out because 'he' was going to touch her elbow. Now Sarah is losing it over hopping. Burst this bubble. I'm fine with it. What's it going to be with John? Just pop the bubble."
So my husband, very gently, told Sarah, "Honey, there is no Easter Bunny. Mommy and Daddy are the Easter Bunny. We hide the eggs."
Sarah got very, very still. She stopped crying. She looked at him. She wiped her eyes and said, "No, you're not. The Easter Bunny is the Easter Bunny."
He explained some more. She said, "I heard him hop."
She slept with us the rest of the night, lest she hear the freaking frackin' rodent come hopping down the bunny trail, woke up in the morning and ran downstairs to find her Easter Basket that I bought and I told her I was buying and yelled, "Look! The Easter Bunny came! Look what he brought me! I knew I heard him hopping!"
But I had my say. Because today the kids began talking about the Easter Bunny. I was willing to let it go. So we told her the truth and she didn't believe us. Fine. Then I hear, "Well, the real Easter Bunny is dead. So this bunny took his place. But the real one has been dead a loooong time."
What the what?
Because, really? I'm going to let them think that some long dead rabbit passed on the job to this bunny, who touches random elbows, hops by the house and waves? Judge if you must, but this is some magic I can do with out.
(and I did do it gently. Honest. I'm not that mean.)