THE EASTER BUNNY HAS LEFT THE HOUSE
So there we were sitting around the dinner table chatting about the school holidays and pajama days which are a holiday institution around these parts when Miss 9, out of nowhere, says “you know the Easter Bunny is not real”.
Please note that there was not even a question mark at the end of the sentence!
And so it happened…with no notice and in a blink of an eye another chapter of childhood closed the door. There was a momentary pang that dissappeared into the happy chatter of Easter Bunny stories.
How they would build nests for the Easter Bunny to leave their special Easter eggs (read – large foil wrapped choclolate animals bought by parents) made from leaves and twigs that they had collected from the garden decorated with slips of paper with their name just so the Easter Bunny would not get lost.
My childen glimpsed the Easter Bunny in suburban gardens together with their cousins while back at Goggi and Gramp’s (that would be Nana and Grandpa to you) we were hiding easter eggs in bushes, pot plants, window sills, door ways, anywhere you could balance an egg really. On their return, breathless with close sightings and glimpses of a disappearing white tail they would pick up one of Goggi’s baskets and then the egg hunt was on for young and old looking for the easter eggs. The rest of the day would pass in a chocolate haze!
Dirt roads, the smell of pine trees and wood smoke bring back memories of Oma and Opa, my grandparents, farm. It seemed that we spent nearly every Easter there for the first 12 years of my life with my boy cousins who all spoke German and just a little English. It always felt so exotic spending time at the farmhouse where German was spoken before English, the food and smells so different but it was really those handpainted Easter eggs that set the place apart.
My mum tells me between Christmas and Easter woe betide any one who cracked an egg shell. All eggs were broken with a pin and a small hole created to ‘drain’ the egg and then the egg shells were laid out to dry before being stored in egg cartons ready for handpainting.
I love that for most of my children’s childhood my parents collected egg shells and handpainted them for my children and their cousins. I am no crystal ball reader but I see a future where my sister and I will be doing that for our grandchildren. Golly that sounds really scary!
This year I am hosting the family for Easter Sunday lunch so there might just have to be a ceremonial Easter nest with special Easter eggs for each child at their spot at the lunch table. At least we will still get the chocolate haze!
What Easter traditions do you and your children have?
Blessings this Easter