While sitting around the dinner table last night, I used a timely little threat with my monkey children.
They wouldn’t sit still and were generally cocky for some reason.
So, I pulled out the old the-Easter-Bunny-is-watching-you bit; you know it only comes in handy once a year and I’ve yet to use it. I mean, c’mon. Easter is right around the corner, and I’d yet to pull that handy little parenting trick out of my arsenal?
Well, much to my chagrin, Carys replied:
“Well, that’s okay. Because the Easter Bunny is not real. It’s just a man. In a costume….duh.”
Like she needed to add “duh” to the end of that little ditty.
My heart sank. I nearly cried.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
See, according to my Parental Rights Handbook (the one I made up in my head), I have at least two years left to watch my child squeal with glee on Easter and Christmas mornings before she starts asking serious questions. I have at least two good years left before she, dare I say it, takes everything I say with a grain of salt because I did lie to her about the Easter Bunny. And Santa Claus.
We tell our girls exactly what it is we are celebrating; Christ. Christ’s birth and his resurrection. Carys has been singing “Hosanna” all day today, and it makes me feel good to know she knows why we celebrate Easter. It’s not just the bright plastic eggs stuffed with loot or dye-stained fingers from coloring eggs of the hard-boiled variety that gets her excited. She told me today that “Jesus is our Savor” — and yes, I did correct her that the proper word is “Savior.”
Every day, I freeze little pictures, frames from our daily life, into my memory.
I froze the look on her face into my head; the matter-of-factness with which she said it, too.
And I’m sad that Carys is starting to put things together. When I asked her where she heard such a ludicrous idea that the Easter Bunny was just a man in a suit, she said, “I thought about it. In my own head.”
So, the wheels are turning. And she’s probably going to play along with me for a little while. She’s not so sure that he’s not real; but she’s not so sure that he is either.
In our home, we try to relay the idea of Santa, and the idea of the Easter Bunny. It’s a general feeling, not necessarily a magical person (or bunny) that actually delivers goodies. But, of course, they’re only kids. And ideas are a little over their heads sometimes.
When I asked her about the Tooth Fairy, she told me that she’s not real either. She’s an angel. And angle with money who collects teeth. And Carys thinks that’s a gross collection. “Why does she collect teeth instead of flowers? Flowers are prettier and smell better than yucky old teeth.”
Carys has yet to lose a tooth, and I think the Tooth Fairy will have to find a good hiding place for her tooth collection, and it probably shouldn’t be in my jewelry box like my mom Tooth Fairy used to do.