The Easter Bunnies Favorite.

 

Maybe Spring isn't such a bad idea after all? I am not a cheerleader for that Season of the year but I do enjoy it way, way more then the Summers heat that seems to be trying to melt my core right now. 

     Thinking about anything but sitting in this sauna - I was reminded of Easter at The Redmond House. It was always kind of a big deal around there while I was growing up. To start off the Holiday week - you would find My Grandmother in a kitchen full of flour fingerprints everywhere, baking endless batches of Hot Cross Buns to deliver, hand out - sharing with family and friends a like. I always thought they were nasty little hard pucks with no flavor and barely enough "frosting" to make a difference when trying them each year.

There were many laugh out loud moments when it came to "picking" who the Easter Bunny would be for that one day at hand while searching for baskets.

     You need to understand, if you have ever been a part of this particular festivity with us - the Big Guy himself would - the night before the celebration get all his "eggs in a row" so to say. Hours of picking and choosing where to put each rainbow colored prism - marshmallow stuffed chocolate in just the right basket for whoever believed. It was always 1 for you. 1 for me. Everything was counted out right down to the last tiny jelly bean and sticky peep.

     That all came about because one year Genzer got an extra pair of socks hidden under his grass when he looked - wishing for more sugary stuff, Joe got p*ssed - stomping down the hallway until he found out that tucked under his treats was an extra pair of skivvies. Now being 9 and 10 years old the World should have stopped spinning but it didn't. From that point on though - that d*mn rabbit had to be a lot more careful. At least more aware as to not "ruin" another Easter.

Then came the year the Bunnies' "hard work" was passed down to the next set of family members. Baskets were bought, over stuffed and hidden.

      Get this though - it didn't matter who you were or where you came from, if you stopped by our place on that glorious Sunday, you were getting an Easter Basket with your name on it. Only catch was - you had to search for it just like everyone else did.

     Next came the year there were 18 boxes out in our front yard. The hunt was on. Every single body from old to young looked under each box even though they seen the person before them peeking under the side to reveal emptiness. Classic.

     It seemed like forever before I was able to finally take over the hopping of the bunny trail. I was so excited! I was in the back bedroom with all the treasures laid out in front of me being so-so quiet as to not "ruffle any grass" to alert the young ones running around. At one point the door made a creaking sound - like that of when Santa steps on a lose floorboard and runs for the fireplace to make his extra before being stopped in the spot light of all the switches in the house being flipped on at once - just not that dramatic.
     Vikki peeked her head inside. It was late, I was tired and there were so many more chocolates to stuff before everything was done so not thinking, I invited her into the "forbidden" factory of Sugar Highs - asking her to help a little. The baskets had already been counted and tagged with names, filled with grass. All that was left was the easy part ... the dropping of the sweets.

     Many of the candies counted out to be sometimes more then 5 per person. When we got around to the bigger confections, those always went on the top, we had just enough of the Cadbury Eggs for each person to get to enjoy one.

Somehow in that very second in time, Vikki decided she:

"Hated them."

"Couldn't stomach them."

Just seeing them "Made her sick."

The thought of them "Made her skin crawl."

"To realistic! Raw eggs. Ewwwww!" as she did the shiver down her spine shake.

     I didn't know what to do with the extra one. I was just going to toss it so there were no flash backs to the underwear incident of years gone bye but she stopped me, 

"You should just put it in your basket. Everyone will be busy. Know one will know."

     Fair enough, I thought. I was not such a Slim Jim Pickens back then so anytime I could get my hands on "fat people snacks" as my one daughter calls it, I was all for jumping in and grabbing.

     Easter dinner came and went. Ham was carved, fresh rolls scarfed down. It was to hunt for baskets. The kids were as excited as they are on their Birthday mornings. It took about an hour and a half before all the adults and kids found their treasures. Filing into the house with goodies in tow, one by one heading back to the table to trade treats.

"I got this."

"I got this one."

"Look what I got!"

     Vikki clears her throat - "Hmmmmm, I didn't get one of those big Cadbury eggs this year. That is strange, they have always been my favorite. The Easter Bunny must have ran out ... O! Look! Kath got two of them. Guess we know who the rabbits favorite was this year, huh?"

After Grandma passed away it just wasn't the same anymore. Now everyone does their own thing at their own house - the most being shared are a few scarce photographs and memories of what once was.

                                                                                                                                                        Kazz 💋