Here’s a pretty funny story about how my
wife, EHEM! I mean, the EASTER BUNNY got a little tripped up this year.
Our 7-year-old woke early Easter morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Which of course means my wife and I also woke, but a little more like roadkill. He rushed to the kitchen, with us stumbling after. We went through our traditional Easter basket demolition and then, emptied, he sprinted with the basket to the front lawn for the hunt.
Before he could launch himself into his search-and-recovery mission, we noticed that the… uhhh, the Easter Bunny had forgotten to deactivate the timer on the sprinklers, so we rolled up his pant legs and let him loose on the glistening grass.
Basket in hand, he began feverishly scouring the greenery. And he kept on scouring. And scouring. I frowned and looked around. There wasn’t a flippin’ egg in sight. Not even in really-closely-looking sight.
I turned to Mrs. Easter Bunny and gave her a puzzled look. She was having the same thought, and explained in a low voice, “Last year he said they were too easy.”
Laughing, I replied, “He was SIX! Of course he’s going to brag it was too easy!”
Then, across the lawn, our son shouted, “FOUND ONE!” But he had not found one.
He found something, though.
We came over to inspect his discovery and my wife gasped as I choked out a laugh. It was a tied-up, green bag of dog poop! Some jerk of a neighbor had picked up after his dog, but then decided to hurl the turd bomb onto our lawn!
The boobytrap was removed and my wife attacked our son’s hands with baby wipes before he was allowed to resume his seemingly impossible quest for treasure.
He finally found one. The Easter Bunny had made up for the overly difficult setting on the game, though, she’d put toy Pokémon figures into Pokéballs and money into plastic eggs. He flipped out gleefully. He’s bonkers for Pokémon. And the ability to buy anything Pokémon related.
Minutes passed into a painful many, so we all joined the search. He’s just old enough to know what’s really up, but still young enough to want to play out the fantasy. So, we kept with the pretending, but tried to cheat it along a bit, and started tossing him bones, like, “If I were a bunny, I’d really like THIS bush.”
I found one wedged under a flowering shrub that was humming loudly with bees. I looked over and gave her a “you’re crazy” smile and she shrugged apologetically.
Time stretched on cruelly, the way it only can when you’re waiting for your first coffee in the morning. My wife and I began finding plastic balls and “re-hiding” them so they were actually something a little kid could find in this century.
At last. He was done!
He had a great time and loved his prizes. But still, we’re NEVER AGAIN doing an Easter egg hunt worthy of challenging Sherlock Holmes. If our son wants a challenge, he can learn how to ride a unicycle or something else that’s challenging but doesn’t come with the risk of injury and medical fees.