About 17 years ago, Easter Bunny passed me the hat, and the basket of eggs. I have to say, it was lots of fun, but It was not always easy, staying up late, finding good hiding places that weren’t TOO good, not getting busted running all around the house dropping things in the middle of the night.
This year, I have been retired. The Easter Bunny job has been outsourced, so I understand. Maybe it is part of the trend to move everything to Mexico? Maybe someday it won’t be just about delivery costs. Anyways, this year, the only eggs I will deliver will be scrambled on toast.
Maybe that is just as well. Easter has had some challenges in the past…..Easter with autism, that is.
When I had 3 little boys, Easter morning began early, TOO early, in my opinion. Each boy had a white basket to collect the eggs, which I gave to them in the morning. However the oldest 2 boys were highly competitive. Often they would get up in the middle of the night and case out the locations of the eggs. I would hear them, I even knew who was up snooping around. As far as I can remember they never met each other at the task of cheating.
N, my youngest son, was oblivious to the entire occasion: He always awoke annoyed Easter morning at having to get up early, and not of his own will. He was always surprised to find even a few hidden candies, and the wonderful experience of eating them right then and there, FAR outweighed the benefit of looking for more, which, as far as he knew, did not exist.
I always felt a bit sorry for N, while watching his brothers fill their baskets, while watching N oblivious, in his own world.and collecting nothing. I could help him, for I had insider knowledge, After all, strong> I, was Easter Bunny. I would try to direct his attention to the foil-wrapped treats before his brothers could descend upon the room and scoop them up. I would often put them in his basket for him. Still, N did not get it: even with my help he would collect no more than a dozen eggs, at the very most, and with constant prompting. It was that heartbreaking lack of understanding, that the treats in the basket could be eaten later, that there were more treats hidden and yet accessible.
So this Easter, when the older two boys agreed that they did not want to bother hunting for Easter eggs, I did not argue a case for N. Or me. I selfishly did not want to give away my rabbit ears. But I also knew that for our very own “least among us” son who is so precious, there was only the bird in the hand, and no eggs in the bush.
Wishing all my special followers, a very Happy Easter.