I got really caught out by the Easter Bunny thing last year.
Since when did it become a thing anyway? I blame America. And social media. And American social media. UGH.
Just to give you some background. Every Easter Sunday since the girlies have been tiny we have invited our very good friends over. They also have two similar aged girls. We usually have a nice lunch then we do an Easter egg hunt. Every year the dads hide the eggs. That’s the way it’s always been. It’s NEVER been done in secret and it’s NEVER been the Easter Bunny who’s hidden the eggs.
Well, because he doesn’t exist silly. Not in a Santa doesn’t exist way, just in a – the Easter Bunny has NEVER been a thing in this country, nor in my family – kind of way.
We have NEVER bought the kids their eggs in secret and left them out on Easter morning pretending the Easter Bunny has been in the night. NEVER.
Cut to last year. The kids choose their own eggs in the supermarket about a week before Easter and that was it. Got myself a corn fed M & S free-range chicken in and told my guests to bring pud. I was Easter ready.
The kids got up Easter Sunday morning. I’d put their eggs (which they had chosen) on the table with the cards and the little ‘grow your own sunflower’ kits my mum had got them. Done.
Enter the kids.
My six-year-old: (excited) Has the Easter Bunny been?
Me: (half asleep not knowing it was a thing) Erm. No.
My six-year-old: (confused) Well, will he be hiding the eggs for the Easter egg hunt then?
Me: No. The Daddies do that remember?
And that was it. I had officially ruined Easter.
She hung her head in utter disappointment and took herself off to the step to quietly sob. I was kind of in shock. WHAT. HAD. JUST. HAPPENED?
My husband went after her to talk it out. She told him she was ‘Sad because the Easter Bunny didn’t exist.’
A quick flick through Insta confirmed that, yes indeed, the Easter Bunny seemed to have had a promotion and he was, in fact now on par with Santa.
Reams of beaming, happy children posing next to their Easter Bunny hauls were plastered all over the colourful little squares. Eggs, baskets, sweets, bunting and even signed feckin notes off the little prick were strewn all over every other half decent Instamum’s feed.
CHRIST. ON. A. STICK. (Easter themed blasphemy… clever huh? Oh stop, he came back to life)
I quickly text my friend who was heading over. Would she have done the whole Easter Bunny thing? If her kids arrived full of stories of their Easter Bunny’s generous, magical visit I’d be even more screwed.
Unfortunately my worst fears were confirmed. Yes, she had left eggs out from the b*stard Bunny. She even insisted it was a family tradition carried on from her childhood!
WTF? How did I miss this?! Was it just my mother who hadn’t done the Easter Bunny thing? Do childline backdate reports of child abuse I wonder?
I had been well and truly crucified by this Easter Bunny sh*t! (see what I did there again?)
So what did I do?
I did what any other sh*t mother with her back against the wall would do. I backtracked. I found an old Easter gift bag and emptied the small chocolate eggs purchased for our hunt into it. I rifled through the card drawer and by some Easter miracle (ok so hardly a resurrection but surely a signs from Jeebers) I found a card with a bunny on it.
I wrote a note and signed it from the Easter Bunny along with a very authentic looking paw print. Then, when their pitiful, disappointed little backs were turned I ran to the top of the garden in my PJ’s to hide it. So there I was desperate, braless, boobs flapping in the icy, Spring breeze, hanging a bag of egg shaped chocolates off a tree. Bit weird when you think about it really.
The next conversation with my six-year-old went something like this.
Me: Do you know what? I’ve just remembered something? I think last year the daddies did hide the eggs, but weren’t they left somewhere by the Easter Bunny first Daddy?
(I was going for an Oscar here by the way)
Daddy: Oh yeah. Weren’t they left in the shed or something?
Me: Yes! So there is an Easter Bunny after all! Quick guys let’s get dressed and go and see!
And there we have it. Easter was saved. Thank Christ. And all this before 9am.
So, I don’t know about you lot but I was not prepared for this sh*t. AT. ALL. I have no idea when the Easter Bunny actually became a thing.
This year however, I’m really not doing it. Partly because I like to be a rebel, but mostly because my kid said the other day:
‘You do know I knew it was you who hid them last year. So it’s ok, we know there’s no Easter Bunny.’
Well phew to that. Saves me running round the garden like a wild banshee freezing my titis off this year eh?
And anyway, if you Google it apparently the Easter Bunny originated from Germany, from a pagan festival (Wiki said it so MUST be true) and actually has nothing to do with Easter or Christianity at all… fancy that? Funny old life eh?