The Easter Bunny Doesn't Come Here Anymore

OK, I know it's starting to look like I'm obsessed with Leslie and her blog. This time I was reading her sister's blog about how she hates being the tooth fairy because she always forgets and it reminded me of something I wrote a few years back.

Here it is for your reading enjoyment.

The Easter Bunny Doesn’t Come Here Anymore
Wendy Clark 4/16/01

My youngest child, who is almost nine, announced to me just before Easter that there was no Easter bunny. “I know you and Dad hide the eggs,” he said. Just like that, one phase of my life, and his, was over. For a split second I was a little sad and had some bittersweet feelings about my baby growing up, but with my next breath I was thinking I was glad that the charade was finally over.

Most parents have fun helping their children believe there is a magical bunny that hides colored eggs and marshmallow chicks, a fairy, who collects discarded baby teeth and leaves money under pillows, and a jolly fat man who travels in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer and leaves toys under the Christmas tree.

My husband and I have had a good time playing Santa. It’s fun staying up half the night together doing last minute wrapping and assembling toys. It’s nice to sit looking over the colorful mound of gifts and split a cookie and a glass of milk, making sure to leave a few crumbs on the plate. One year we even left some curly white craft hair that delighted our kids.

Playing the tooth fairy isn’t nearly that much fun. Sneaking into a bedroom to take a tooth and put money under a pillow is a little dull compared to secretly unloading armloads of presents under a tree or hiding cavity-producing amounts of candy around the yard. On more than one occasion we’ve completely forgotten to do tooth fairy duty. Such situations could have been total disaster but I was able to think fast and cover our blunders so skillfully that parents of believers should pay me good money to learn how I did it.

Here’s how it went: Daughter comes into the room crying that the tooth fairy didn’t come and I suddenly realize I’m in trouble. My brain starts working double time trying to come up with a way out of my predicament. When daughter leaves the room, I grab a pencil and scrawl a note in teeny tooth fairy writing saying something like she tried to come and get the tooth but got scared away by a big fluffy cat that tried to eat her so she left the tooth under the pillow, wrote the note and left it with the money in the kitchen. I conveniently find the note and present it to daughter, who becomes happy once again, and I congratulate myself for being such a genius.

Because I so brilliantly saved the day the first time, the next time the tooth fairy forgot to come I was experienced and prepared. When daughter’s tears started to flow, I grabbed some coins and secretly slipped them under the pillow of sleeping son. When son woke up I “discovered” that the tooth fairy had left the money under HIS pillow! I told daughter that because she and son had recently switched rooms, the tooth fairy must have become confused and left the money in the wrong room, and since the cat tried to eat her last time, she was afraid to go looking around. (I think the tooth fairy must be one egg short of a dozen, and I’ve got an extra one in my basket!)

There’s a lot of thought put into maintaining the illusions we create for our children. Why is it then that we don’t get any of the credit? We spend our precious time and money securing presents and goodies for them and then go to outrageous lengths to make sure the kids believe that the bearded man in red, the rabbit with a basket and the fairy with a wad of cash are responsible for all the nice things that come their way.

This year, since the Easter bunny doesn’t come here anymore, thanks will go where thanks are due. We sent our kids on a treasure hunt for Easter candy. After following clues all over the house and discovering treats in various places, they finally came to the last surprise, a chocolate bunny with a note that read:

Congratulations!
You’ve found all there is to be had.
Have a very happy Easter.
Love, Mom and Dad.

My youngest son will probably tell me, come December, that there is no Santa Claus. That’s OK. I’ll still stay up half the night getting things ready for the big day ahead but the jolly old elf won’t get all the credit. My husband and I will watch him unwrap his presents and get to tell him, “Have a very merry Christmas. Love, Mom and Dad.”