The Hare’s innocence had been bruised, tarnishing our world of make-believe, after last year’s Easter debacle. Christmas was certainly changed, the thrill of Santa and reindeer left an unexpected emptiness. I assumed Easter would be the same.
“Now don’t forget,” I reminded, “some of our guests still think the Easter Bunny is real.”
“I KNOW, Mom!” snapped The Hare.
Two families were coming for Easter dinner. These are families that we have grown attached to through gymnastics. They each have two girls, about the ages of our two girls. It couldn’t be a more perfect match. Plus, we are all some what family less at Easter. This marked our second annual Easter potluck. We stuffed our selves silly with tacos, borracho beans, guacamole, salsa, queso, chips and various other non-healthy choices. I love how the house fills with the smell of fresh cilantro while the beans simmer for hours. Each room gets a quick makeover in preparation of entertaining. I love sharing my home with friends and family, especially those that truly know that “my house is their house”. No one asks where things are or if they can rummage through the fridge looking for the sour cream. Every one is comfortable enough to take their shoes off. These are the moments I hope my children remember the most about holidays, sharing it with others over good food and fun conversations.
“You know, Mom,” said The Hare, while I was putting groceries away, “it would be a lot easier to play along tomorrow if I actually got an Easter basket. You don’t want me to have to LIE, do you?”
I looked at her in stunned amazement.
“Of course, I don’t want you to lie,” I replied, smiling and shaking my head.
The Easter Bunny made an unplanned trip to Target at 7pm Saturday night.