Easter on the Road

Did you know that the Easter bunny has a kick-ass GPS system?  Yep, it seems that floppy-earred furball’s not gonna let a little thing like geography trip him up on making all his deliveries.  So if you happened to be in downtown Chattanooga on Saturday night and wondered why an overgrown rabbit was lurking around the Sheraton, don’t get your Peeps all in a bunch over it.  He was simply making a very special stop for two little shorties super duper early on Easter morning.

In hindsight, it would’ve really helped the Head Hare out if I’d thought to bring all the Easter goodies with us when we left for our week-long road trip to Florida, but we all know what hindsight is — a crockpot full of crap.  Naturally, I forgot all about grabbing the stash in the mad rush to get out of the house and onto the road.  So, by the time we finally stopped for the night in Tennessee on our return trip home, we realized that we were twelve eggs short of a dozen.  I sent my husband out to the nearest Walgreens after we finally got the kids to sleep, and he came back with some seriously slim pickins.  He had to beg, borrow and plead and do everything but offer the manager sexual favors in order to convince her to sell him the only remaining Easter grass in town, which just so happened to be part of their store display.  She finally obliged, so he grabbed some M&M’s, Reese’s eggs, a couple of crappy baskets and a bag of plastic eggs and raced back over to the hotel.

Realizing that we needed something else to spice up the lackluster loot, we decided to pool our money together, scrounging up as many quarters and dollar bills that we could find, and we went to work, cramming chocolates and cash into as many eggs as we possibly could.  I made the unfortunate mistake of laying down to “rest my eyes” for a few minutes, so my husband was left with the task of finding some decent hiding places for all the eggs in the hotel room.  (And for the record, a hotel room is NOT ideal for egg hunting.)

When the kids woke up the next morning, they were totally stoked to see that they hadn’t been forgotten.  They raced around picking up eggs and counting all their findings. They were amazed that the Big Bunny had still managed to track them down. That’s the great thing about kids — their little brains are so young and innocent that you can tell them just about anything and they’ll believe you.  If I could somehow squeeze them into one of these blue plastic eggs and protect them from all the REAL bullshit that’s out there in the world, I’d hippity hop to it in a heartbeat.

Hippity Hop History

For the past couple of days, I’ve been wondering how in the world the whole Easter bunny concept came to be and what the hell eggs have to do with a rabbit!  It’s pretty amazing that no one ever seems to question the association of an oversized hare who hides plastic eggs with the resurrection of Jesus.  I am almost 37 years old and have never once thought to figure out if there’s even a remote connection!

What I found out is that apparently, rabbits and eggs are both symbols of fertility and new life, which is supposed to be what Spring is all about, right?   Well, supposedly, back in the 1700s, it was believed that a certain rabbit spirit known as “Oschter Haws” would come to the homes of well-behaved children and plop out a nest of brightly colored eggs.  Kids would actually go around their homes and yards and set up nests for this pregnant bunny to give birth to these coveted eggs.

Seriously?  It really all goes back to an egg-laying bunny who only went into labor in the homes of good girls and boys?  Maybe it’s just me, but I find this a bit disturbing.  So, you mean to tell me that we stain our hands dyeing hard-boiled eggs, dress up our kids and parade them to the mall to sit on the laps of a bunch of underpaid bunny wannabes, spend oodles of money on a bunch of sugar-laced, cavity-inducing crap, and hide plastic ovals in every possible crevice of our homes, all in the name of a horny hare who’s ready to pop?

I almost wish I wouldn’t have Googled the history of this crazy holiday tradition, because in this case, I really think ignorance is bliss.  In fact, it is just plain odd!  I pray to God that like me, my kids can go a couple more decades before they think to investigate this wacky notion.  We’ll just go on pretending like it’s all cute and innocent fun to find all the abandoned after-birth of some overgrown long-eared animal lying about the living room.  Happy Easter everyone!