Today is Easter Sunday. This is the day that Christians celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, the son of God who died a brutal death, giving his life for the sins of human kind. This article is not about Jesus (although, obviously, a HUGE thank you for doing that for us). This article is about a certain mammal with floppy ears. He has been known to hop in and out of houses wearing pastel three-piece Steve Harvey suits with Stacy Adams shoes. If you couldn’t already tell, I’m talking about the Easter Bunny.
Every year, parents tell the same story to their children: be good, and the Easter Bunny will come and leave you a basket full of treats, colorful eggs, chocolates, and gifts. He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He’s using the same patented Peeping Tom Technology that Santa uses. He’s climbing through your windows, snatching some baskets up, and leaving them somewhere in the house for little boys and girls to find when they wake up.
The problem is that there is no rabbit, hare, or bunny that is going to hop around from house to house bringing treats. I mean, think about it: how in the hell does this bunny carry all of those baskets? Rabbits don’t have thumbs, and they can’t even walk, which means that they need to stay on all fours to get around, leaving no arms for carrying baskets. And anyone who has done Cross-Fit or any other sort of plyometric training can tell you, hopping is NOT easy. Do you have any idea how many children there are in the world? And he has to hop from state to state, country to country, with all these baskets, and nary a car, boat, airplane, bicycle, nothing? C’mon son.
It’s not even a good lie. Not only is it physically impossible for rabbits to do that much hopping, or to carry that many baskets, rabbits do not lay eggs. The entire story defies the laws of basic biology. When you tell this story to your children, you’re telling them hey kid, I think you’re pretty dumb, so let’s see how long I can get you believe this story before you figure out that I’ve been lying to you. You little moron.
And they believe you. Because you’re their parent. They love you, they trust you, and they look up to you. Besides, in their sweet, innocent, naïve hearts, they cannot think of any conceivable reason why their own parent would construct such a twisted, elaborate lie, and how their seemly normal guardians could possibly be members of a deeply intrenched worldwide conspiracy.
So they go along with it. Even though the local Duane Reade is filled to the gills with the exact same treats that the Easter Bunny brings. Even though bunnies don’t lay eggs, and so what if their rifle-toting daddy’s favorite dish is rabbit stew? The Uncle Tom-ass Easter Bunny doesn’t care if you string up all the other rabbits in the land, he will still be shucking and jiving his way to your house with a basket of goodies and a smile on his face. “Yessuh, I shole is happy to bring you these chocolates, suh!”
And it’s all good for a while. The kid is going along with the story, and after all, the treats keep coming in, so what’s not to like. The parents keep lying, because they’re sick and they’re getting away with it. Then, one day, the kid finds out that it has all been a lie. Maybe a kid at school told them, or maybe they were watching a grown-up tv show that the discussed the Easter Conspiracy. By now, they are a bit older, and you have already disappointed them in many ways. You said you’d make it to their t-ball game, but you didn’t make it. You said that you’d play dolls with the kid, but you blew it off. You said that you loved their mom, but the kid caught you playing hide the salami with your secretary in the supply closet on Take Your Child to Work Day. Suddenly, your word as a parent doesn’t mean what it once did, and the child is left wondering– is the Easter Bunny another one of your lies?
So they confront you. Chin quivering, their wet, shining eyes searching yours for the truth that lies beneath them. And finally, you admit it. Yes, the bunny is a lie. How long have you known? Forever. How could you do this to me? Easily. Because your parents did it to you, and their parents did it to them, and one day, these young sweetlings will do it to their own kids. And that is the moment when the child learns: trust no one. It is isn’t one of Biggie’s Ten Crack Commandments for nothing. Your mom’s will set that ass up, properly gassed up, hoodie to mask up. Better they learn from the Easter Bunny than from the Big Bad Wolf.