With Daddy in Milwaukee and the kids home from school, what’s a mom to do? Torture them, of course!! And so I did – with a trip to the Easter Bunny. In theory, of course, the Easter Bunny is a wonderful, benign childhood fairy of sorts, who travels the world on Easter Eve, leaving baskets filled with candy and goodies, and brightly colored eggs hidden all over the place. And when you think “Bunny”, you think fuzzy little cute twitchy nosed bunny that you could hug and cuddle and squeeze.
Then your crazy mother takes you to the mall, where the Easter Bunny is 7 feet tall, has some crazy, googly eye thing going on, and when you get close, he sticks wooden skewers out at you (okay, they were Easter pencils, but for Granuaile, I know she thought she was going to be Rabbit Food on a spit).
The initial part of the visit went really well. She had on a cute little denim jumper, covered with Easter and spring decor on the bottom. She and Eilis both decided to wear their Crocs (the Stride Rite version), which are flowery and springy. We got to the mall, and walking past the Easter Bunny, Granuaile was all waving and smiling and happy. Then we got in line. She pointed at me, she cried “No Mommy, no Bunny”, she even put her hand out to block her view of the mechanical bunny that sat alongside the Easter Bunny queue.
When we got to the bunny, I thought I could put Eilis next to him, and Gracie next to her. Uh-uh. No way. You’re outta your fuzzy little mind, Sister. So in went Brighid – who, I might add, was about as thrilled to see the Easter bunny as Granuaile was. Brighid positioned herself sort of between the bunny and Grace, who had stopped crying by now, but when Brighid sat down, Gracie seemed to be closer to the Bunny and none too happy.
I stood next to the photographer, big grin on my face, happy to see all three of my beautiful girls sitting there, and Grace keeps putting her hands out, making sad little faces, and saying stuff like “Mommy, down!” and “Mommy, take me!” and “Mommy, you stupid woman, do you know what the therapy bills are going to cost you? Get me the hell out of here!” (or at least that’s what I heard). It was over in a matter of seconds, and Brighid hopped up as fast as she could, and was ready to walk completely away from the bunny. But there was our unpredictable little Grace, waving goodbye to the bunny, putting her hand out for her Easter skewer, um, I mean pencil. Waving half way down the mall, she was holding her pencil, and holding the little butterfly bean bag toy that they “give” you when you pay too much for a package of Easter Bunny pictures.
Ah well. Great picture and great memories. Oh, and that legalized torture thing – it was a great day.