The Easter Bunny......

Thankfully, my kids don't read this blog unless they think there is a post specifically about THEM, so I am unlikely to dash any illusions with this announcement:

My brother is the Easter Bunny.

Since CityGirl was tiny, one or the other of my brothers has been the Easter Bunny.  See, the Easter Bunny comes to our house while we are at church on Easter Sunday morning.  This explains why my children appear to be so well-behaved at that service.  They are the only kids there who are not hyped up on chocolate and jellybeans! This tradition has carried forward despite the fact that there cannot possibly be one child of mine left, including Babygirl, who thinks that there is a REAL Easter Bunny.  In part this is because our kids love candy, and are willing to go along just to get better loot.  In part it is because the Easter Bunny himself has a little one who is just now old enough to be pretty sure that there really isn't an Easter Bunny.  Partly it's because there are now grandkids young enough to hunt for eggs and believe (my eldest grandson is only 4 years younger than Babygirl).  But I suspect that the Easter Bunny, cunning old soul that he is, simply enjoys camouflaging Easter baskets and watching kids suffer through trying to locate them.  And he REALLY loves that moment, months from now, when we finally locate that last ("OMG What is that SMELL!") Easter egg.

I called my brother a few days ago to confirm that we are still on for the Easter Bunny gig.  He confirmed that he and his helper would be along to do the job.  And then....

"The Easter Bunny would really appreciate finding something warm and sweet....."

Not that I am at all stressed.  But this is (more or less) the rant that followed:  "I put four THOUSAND miles on my car last month driving back and forth to the doctors with my sick kid while working a full time job.  I am making Easter dinner, making the eggs and I already have the damned dye for the coloring party, which is at MY house, so the Easter Bunny can..."

"...buy his own f***ing donuts?" replied my brother, with a laugh.

"Precisely."

I love my family.

DeeDee