Yesterday morning, The Duchess woke me up two hours early in order to announce that the Easter Bunny had indeed arrived. Well, fancy that.
As she tore down the stairs to retrieve her basket from its place on the hearth, I used the time to close my eyes and hope for some kind of sleep miracle that would cause me to instantly fall into a deep slumber from which I could not be awakened until I was properly rested. And by rested, I mean sometime next week.
You see, the Easter Bunny put lots of effort into going to the bank to get $5 bills to stuff into brightly colored plastic eggs for Grumpy and Snotty, the drugstore to purchase makeup suitable for The Duchess, to Super Target for candy for all of the little wretches and to approximately six other retail stores in order to completely overdo the entire consumer driven Easter story to which we Heathens subscribe. This was, of course, on top of all of the other duties the Easter Bunny normally has. When not being the Bunny, he is scrubbing toilets, running errands, vacuuming and chasing around after a very flouncy bouncy four year old.
Needless to say, by the time Easter morning rolled around, the Bunny was tuckered out. Although tired, the Bunny was also proud of a job well done and was awaiting the ebullient shouts of glee soon to be bellowed forth by the three recipients of the overflowing baskets.
What came next, rocked the Bunny to his very core and will forever change his little sugar coated bunny heart. What came next, was the sound of The Duchess.....crying.
As I sat with camera in hand to catch this special moment in the life of The Duchess, she pointed to Snotty's basket and inquired, "Who's basket is that?" When I told her it was Snotty's she burst into tears.
Me: "What's the matter?!"
The Duchess: (pointing to Snotty's basket) "I want that bunny!"
Me: "THAT bunny?! That's a tiny little bunny. Look at your bunny. It's big and has a pretty dress and hat on! The Easter Bunny picked it out especially for you!"
The Duchess: (with tears in her eyes) "My bunny is the very ugliest bunny EVER!"
Well, Damn. The Easter Bunny really stunk it up this time.
In the ensuing brouhaha which basically involved me attempting to convince The Duchess that her bunny was the most beautiful rabbit ever produced in a sweatshop by underpaid workers in Taiwan, and her crying and coveting her sister's $3.99 stuffed bunny, Snotty showed up and took one look at her basket and said to The Duchess, "I don't want my rabbit. You can have it."
Sure, I could have been pissed that twice in the same five minute period, both of my daughters had completely insulted my ability to select appropriate stuffed animals for them, but instead I chose to see the silver lining. The Duchess wasn't stuck with the very ugliest bunny ever. Tragedy averted. Thanks, Snotty.
Later in the evening as I was putting dinner dishes away, The Duchess asked me, "Mommy, is the Easter Bunny for real?" Without skipping a beat, I said, "No. Mommy is the Easter Bunny and Mommy is Santa Clause too."
The Duchess: "Oh."
And that's that.
The Duchess in her Easter regalia, after the tragedy had been averted