"I'm gonna write the Easter Bunny a note and ask him if he'll put our names on our eggs and hide them so we can find them," Mimi says excitedly today.
"Wait a minute. I thought you didn't believe in the Easter Bunny," I remind her.
"No. That was just Santa Claus. Because I found my notes in your cabinet and those painted pieces of wood in Dad's closet," she reminds me. "Plus we don't have a chimney."
I remember blatantly a few weeks ago she announced she knew I was the Easter Bunny. And I said, "Yep." So is she having "Believer's Remorse"? Is she retracting her disbelief? Has she already had too much candy from the Easter Egg hunt on Saturday to remember she is a disbeliever now? Maybe I should get it in writing next time. "I, Mimi, no longer believe in Santa Claus, Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. Therefore, you (the parents, er, uh, Mom) are no longer obliged to provide gifts, chocolate and money from this day forward."
Remember? I was taking this day off. I was going to leave rabbit turds (chocolate covered raisins) instead. Well, she did make me a birthday card. She did make me a "get well" card when I was sick. She also made me a watercolor picture of a rainbow and then got mad at me and got a marker and wrote "To Daddy" on it. So maybe she's the only one who deserves a little treat from the Bunny.
It reminds me of a time I bribed my kids to be good while we ran an errand and I would take them to get an ice-cream afterward. Well, they were little ..... brats..... and I told them that just because they were brats didn't mean I couldn't have a treat. So I bought myself an ice-cream cone and ate it right in front of them. I'm giggling to myself as I think about it because I was so fuming mad with them I'm surprised the ice-cream didn't melt from the steam coming out of my ears. So I pretended to enjoy that ice-cream cone as I ate my frustrations. Bahaha!
So, any suggestions? Remember, I have the 17 and 19 year olds that didn't acknowledge my birthday. I'm trying to be strong. Maybe there should be a movie "The Year Without the Easter Bunny." Maybe I could tell them Mother's Day will be a predetermination for Christmas. I feel so mean! I could always just put Jared in charge. I have this small fear he would make me look bad, you know, that he might spend more than usual and have this feast of holiday favorites. But then I think about how he takes over cooking dinners sometimes and the kids complain that it's not like mom's. Wishful thinking.
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