Hoppy Easter!

April 8, 2012

I firmly believe adults have never quite gotten past the wonder of Halloween. You know: having an unrestrained opportunity to CHOOSE TO BE ANYTHING, and to suit up and go forth in public on a foraging expedition under cover of darkness.

Having our Halloween secret identities stifled come adolescence; many an adult will undertake to channel this impulse into more mature areas.

Biohaz jobs offer ample encouragement to both suit up AND place one’s sandwiches in a place far from the petri dish storage fridge, for example.

Santa’s Xmas specter is a shining example of the suit up opportunity for adults – and nowadaze, Easter has become another. If one is inclined to be so limited.

When I was a kid, the Easter Bunny was totally invisible. The ONLY evidence of his reality and passage in my world was a puzzling plethora of eggs – chocolate and regular – left behind. The encouraged pastime of dying eggs for this opportunity was an even more puzzling pastime (i.e.: did not Easter Bunny arrive yearly bringing his OWN largess?)

But today the kids expect – and receive – Easter in the flesh, in the form of a selected adult winning the opportunity to don a large furry 6-foot-high wabbit costume. It’s like having a good-mood Lurch from Addams Family come to call ….. STRANGE.

Last year I begged requested of Bill that we personally observe this phenomenon in action, advertised in a local newspaper as ‘The Easter Bunny Visits Brunch’. And marketed as an Opportunity for parents with small children. Clearly, one I couldn’t miss.

                

I dressed up with not one but TWO BUNNY PURSES (Bill not only refused to carry HIS, but made me walk 4 steps in back of him whilst he whistled and looked up at the sky on the way to the restaurant. Seemingly “not with me”. Having pulled this behavior with my own parents, I was quite understanding. PLUS – it gave me the opportunity to pelt his ass with Peeps – stored handily in my Easter purse […which was one reason I needed TWO] for Easter Emergency – on the way in.)

Poor Easter. Apparently I was the ONLY one in the entire restaurant excited about his presence. Parents armed with cameras descended on da joint in search of a fun photo whilst a covy of poor tykes – mostly under the age of 3 – screamed in terror at this fresh horror of a 6-foot bunny with a maniacal ever-present grin approaching each table; likely a prelude to Gobbling Them Up. (‘Cause everyone KNOWS vegetarian wabbits don’t get to be 6 feet without a healthy dose of non-veggie PROTEIN.)

The entire restaurant – sans myself – was apparently Awash in Horror. The screaming was positively deafening (likely why Mr. Bill got his hearing aids a month or so later…)

I snagged myself another Photo Op – since nobody else was.

                                                                  

But the stormy kids remained convinced that this large insanity could NOT be a good thing.

I even made BILL pose.                    

 

(…notice the dubious look on HIS face. If even a 6.5 adult entertains notions of being ET after the Photo Op, think what it must have been like for the under-2-feeters!)

In the end Easter slunk out of the restaurant, having been kindly asked by the Management to cut short his Brunch Visit. At that point the screams of horror were bouncing off the ceiling, the restaurant’s month-long Costco supply of tissues had been exhausted, and parents were fleeing with sobbing, traumatized babes in arms.

Easter. An unfettered opportunity for Adults to dress up in costume and, even if briefly, play a meaningful part in a child’s life.

Chalk it right up there with ‘clowns’ on the Horror Scale.

Chocolate egg, anyone?

Hoppy Easter!

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