My childhood memories of Easter revolve around frilly new dresses, church and big dinners with family. I tried for years to duplicate those memories for my children, but when you don’t live near family and don’t consistently go to church, it’s hard to do. A few times we’ve communed with friends or occasionally family has come up to visit. But the last few years have consisted more of our normal Sunday routines: sleeping in and making a big breakfast with the added fun of hiding plastic eggs throughout the house. Once we even had Easter dinner at P.F. Chang’s.
I would have to say this Easter has been one of my favorites. We invited two other families over. It was a perfect union since both of these families consisted of two girls about the same age as our two girls. One family we go to school with and both families we participate in gymnastics together. We hosted a big Mexican lunch, complete with Margaritas and Coronas. The kids searched for chocolate filled plastic eggs while the adults played card games. It was relaxed and comfortable. We talked about kids and family. I even told them about my Easter Bunny debacle the night before. By the end of the evening, we had already made plans for next year.
I was cleaning up dishes when my phone made a soft ding. A text message arrived.
Well, we didn’t even make it to the highway and one of the girls said, “The Hare’s mom told her that her mom is the Easter Bunny and Santa.” I was so not ready for that conversation driving down the road. Other than that, we had a great time today.
My heart dropped. I really thought we had prepped both The Tortoise and The Hare on how to handle these conversations. Of course I immediately questioned The Tortoise about not being discreet while talking with her classmate.
“I swear, Mom. I didn’t say anything. But I think The Hare was totally spilling the beans”
“What?! Then why didn’t you stop her?”
“You always tell me I shouldn’t parent her so much and just be her sister.”
I very calmly sat down with The Hare and asked her about the text I received.
“It wasn’t me.”
“But your sister says it wasn’t her either, so then who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
(I’m so sick of I Don’t Know living here and can’t wait for the day they finally move out.)
I continued to question her and finally she cracked.
“OK! Alright already! IT WAS ME!” she started to cry.
“Sweetie, why did you tell them? I thought you understood that this was something we shouldn’t talk about with your friends.”
She wiped her tears and stuck out her lip.
“I just couldn’t take it anymore. They kept asking me questions about what the Easter Bunny brought and they wouldn’t drop it.”
“I’m confused,” I said sorting through thoughts of solid chocolate bunnies sitting on our counter for each of the girls, the basket of plastic eggs loaded with more candy and even the gifts of Nook money. There were plenty of things she could have said, “Then what did you say?”
“I just said, ‘I’m not allowed to talk about it’ and when they wouldn’t drop it I finally just told them the truth.”
“WHAT?” I blurted out, “Why would you say that? You should have told them the Easter Bunny brought you candy and a new book download or something.”
“But he didn’t, you did.”
“Well, you could have pretended it was from the Easter Bunny.”
The Hare’s brows crossed. Confusion clouded her face.
“So now I’m allowed to lie?”