Easter Bunny: Not A Voracious Child-Gobbling Monster

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The Easter Bunny Is Not a Voracious Monster

Here’s a quick recap of our Easter experience, before the Internet’s ruthlessly short attention span makes it irrelevant and uninteresting.

My father-in-law made reservations at a nice restaurant. He’s rad. When we walked into the place, he got even radder. Fountains, pillars, marble floors, this was gonna be yummy! Lizzie whispers to me “Oh, by the way, it’s a buffet.” Time to burst my stomach and follow it with a coma nap!

As we sat and gorged, I saw a flash of white enter the room. This was gonna be it! Lucas’ first observation of an adult-sized bunny. I got my camera out and captured the look of nervous awe.

Extended Hug for the Easter Bunny
Extended Easter Bunny love. (Note: the sour-looking girl in the background was doing damage to her optic nerve from impatiently rolling her eyes.)

He didn’t make a sound, but as he looked around at us, his face said, “Why is no one else but me freaking out about this!?! Giant! Friggin’! Bunny! Hellooooooo!!!” The Bunny finally went away but Lucas kept looking around warily, saying, “Bunny! Out!” which loosely translates to “Please get me out of this highchair now before I explode! Didn’t you just see that!?! Let’s go find it!”

When the Bunny came in for round two, we got Lucas out and he surprised us by running up to it. Brave lad! The Bunny leaned down to him and everyone’s heart melted as the lad latched a firm hug onto its arm. Awww! He kept on hugging. And hugging. Aaaaand hugging. Started to get awkward even. I could sense the inner turmoil and back pain of the Bunny, which had to be unsure about pulling its arm away and looking like the Easter Douchebag. Sympathetic, I called the lad away.

Click here for an earlier post about the weirdness of Easter.

4 Comments

  • If Lucas gives hugs to giant bunnies, I want to be one. He’s adorable (Lucas, not the bunny).

    • andy says:

      Oh man! So touched. (Me not the Bunny.)

      • MotherDuck says:

        My dad used to come out every Easter morning with his boots on and in a loud booming voice say, “Where is that bunny? I’m going to have me some rabbit stew today!!!” And would stomp around the house like Elmer Fudd. Ever since I’ve always had the motherly need to protect the Easter Bunny and would never share what I got in my Easter Basket with my Dad and would point out the hypocrisy. The bunny in your picture would probably kick his ass or at least hug him until he gave in and took off his boots.

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