Tonight we wrote a letter to the Easter Bunny, instructing him to please take the stinky pink and blue and lavender eggs sitting in the basket on the kitchen table and hide them "in a place where no one will find them" (this was Lily's request).
We left him a plate of baby carrots and a handful of Puffins cereal and I reminded her that EB would only come if she went to sleep early.
Then she asked, "Mama, how is the Easter Bunny gonna get in our house?"
This is a question I hate. Living in an apartment in New York City doesn't really allow for working within the framework of the Santa-coming-down-the-chimney scenario, or the Easter Bunny hopping in from...wherever he hops in from. All our holiday characters climb in the window from the fire escape like cat burglars and it doesn't exactly enhance the fantasy.
So I gestured toward the kitchen window. "I left it open a crack, so he could get in that way, see?"
Lily was horrified. She hopped up from the kitchen stool and promptly removed all the little plastic Princess statues from the window sill and transported them into her room.
When she came back I was smiling. "Is that so the Easter Bunny will have an easier time getting into the house, baby?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No. It's so he doesn't steal them."
I bit my lip. "Honey, he isn't going to steal your toys."
"Well, what if he does? What if he comes in the window and takes all my candy? Should we hide everything?"
Christ, Almighty. So I spent the next 20 minutes explaining that just because the Easter Bunny comes in through the kitchen window like a convicted felon, it doesn't mean he's gonna steal our stuff.
But getting her to sleep totally sucked, because every creak or cat mewl she heard had her convinced that the Easter Bunny was arriving ahead of schedule to make off with her Barbie Trans Am or Polly Pocket cruise ship.
Holidays shouldn't be this complicated.
16 hours ago