photo by Dan4th
My son still believes in the Easter bunny. And Santa. And the Tooth Fairy. He’s almost 11, so every year I wonder, will this be the year when all his “role models” will be exposed for who they really are?
He came to me the day before Easter and asked, “Mom, are you the one who hides my eggs?” I asked him what he believed. (Always answer a question with a question when you don’t have a good answer.) He thought about it for a moment. “I still believe in the Easter bunny,” he said.
Which meant I had to once again scurry to hide eggs in the dark that night when I walked the diva Chihuahua. Yes, my life would be easier if I didn’t have to pretend to be these larger-than-life figures. I wouldn’t have to sneak around stealthily hiding eggs and candy, or set my alarm to ensure I don’t fall asleep on Christmas eve before putting presents under the tree (one of my worst nightmares), or hold my breath while I rummage under my son’s pillow for his tiny tooth.
The look of sheer joy and delight on my son’s face when he wakes up to discover these surprises makes all the worry and lost sleep worth it. It’s okay that he woke me up at 6:45 on Easter Sunday and dragged me outside into the cold, damp morning to search for eggs with him. Walking behind him down our backyard path, watching him swing his colorful wicker Easter basket in his footie pajamas made me wish he could stay young and innocent forever.
Of course, after he consumed major amounts of chocolate and jellybeans he was so jacked-up and annoying, I couldn’t wait for his grandma to pick him up and take him away for the day. But during that morning hunt, I had as much fun as he did. I rue the day when he discovers Santa, the TF, and the Easter Bunny are just plain, old Mom.