This morning the Easter Bunny came. Of course you can't go outside and look until after you've had your breakfast. Fred was so full after one piece of toast. Una had forgotten about the whole chocolate business, and kept drawing, taking the occasional mouthful of weetbix (I always have weetbix except one time when I had porridge, remember when I had porridge for breakfast? Wasn't that a funny day?). Finally it was time to look. Nothing in the fairy garden. Hmm. The Easter Bunny comes where you've been playing recently, I suggest. Fred's been playing at Tom's. No, no. The Easter Bunny always comes to your house (a slightly confusing statement since we usually spend Easter away with friends - luckily it goes by unquestioned). We haven't really got Easter Bunny lore down in this house. Luckily the girls don't ask why the Easter Bunny delivers chocolate eggs, because I don't know why. I guess when you're five, or three, it's totally within the realms of probability that a fluffy bunny who loves children would want to lay little chocolate eggs in the garden. Okay, so let's look in the barn, they spent a lot of yesterday riding their bikes and making gutter-rivers and washing babies in the barn. Nope. The swings? Aha! There they are - next to
Easter Bunny knows that Fred's school gave out an extraordinary quantity of chocolate and that Una also got eggs at creche, so the spread is light on this year (not that the girls notice). Fred gathers up her white chocolate Lindt bunny and her four caramel easter eggs. 'When I get inside I'm going to give an egg to you Mummy, and one to Daddy,' says Fred. And she does. I am overcome. We suggest to Una she give one of her eggs to Fred to make things fair again. Una does, without question. I love them. I love my girls.
The Easter Bunny has also brought presents, even though we're not quite sure about Easter and presents. This Easter Bunny remembers how some girls at school got toys and perfume and jewellery for Easter, but she doesn't really think these are appropriate for Easter. No, no. Easter is the chocolate holiday. On Facebook this morning she reads about kids who got new Nintendo DS games and she quietly disapproved of such extravagance, such blatant consumerism on behalf of one of her alternate selves. Anyway, this Easter Bunny nestled amongst the chocolate a painted wooden egg, a badge each and a fluffy chicken (who can resist a fluffy chicken), inside a little plastic egg, decorated by a little old man and a little old woman somewhere in Melbourne. Trinkets, Easter trinkets.
This morning, when Fred gathered up her eggs she said 'Thank you, Mummy and Daddy!'
I said, 'don't thank us, thank the Easter Bunny.'
'Oh yeah, I forgot.' She calls thank you to the Easter Bunny.
Did she forget? Or are we perpetuating an untruth? And is she protecting us by playing along?
Tomorrow, the circus! Fred couldn't be more excited. And four nights down at the beach! Yay!