Mom on the Run: Too old for the Easter Bunny?

 My teenage chauffeur turns to me and, “What do we have to get at Wal-Mart?” he asks conversationally.

“Cotton balls,” I reply, digging for my list. Aha, here it is. “Let’s see. Cotton balls. A small bag of grass seed. Candy for the church Easter egg hunt.” Which, I make a mental note, I have to get back to Buckhall United Methodist before next weekend. And there’s one other note on my list, items I had figured I would sneak into the basket with my other shopping. But my son is here right now, and the topic has come up, sort of, so … “What do you want to do about Easter this year?“

“Easter?“

“Uh huh. What, um …what do you want the Easter bunny to do?“

My son turns, looks at me quizzically. “What do I want the Easter bunny to do?“

“Yeah. Does the Easter bunny still come to our house, when one kid is away at college and the other is very nearly 16? I mean, there will be a basket delivered to college next weekend, but what about you?“

“The Easter bunny is going to deliver a basket to college?” Ha, my son is repeating everything I say. Apparently this is a very weird conversation!

“Definitely. With little toys, decorations, candy. I think your sister will be sad if she doesn’t get anything!” In fact, I’m certain my college freshman daughter will be crushed if there’s no Easter basket for her. I’ll get a text message saying, “It’s OK,” which it absolutely will not be. So, yes, planning on a basket. “But what about you? Are you expecting an Easter basket?“

I have to check, because it’s transition time here, and I’m not sure what’s a sacred childhood ritual and what’s silly little-kid stuff. I know for my own late-teen Easters, the bunny gave up and began leaving sandwich bags of assorted candy lined up on the kitchen counter. It was logical, especially after bugs got into the candy hidden outside, but a little disappointing nevertheless. So now I’m the mom, and I’m checking with my kid before doing something irreversible.

My son looks at me sideways. “How much does, um, the Easter bunny spend on each basket?“

No way, I think, looking at him suspiciously. He’s not … is he? … “About 20 bucks,” I tell him. Probably. Once you add up the candy and the socks and hopping chick toys.

“Twenty bucks! Can I just have the cash?” My son looks over at me, grinning, eyebrows up, wondering: will this actually work? Can he score $20? Off the Easter bunny?

Oh! He is! He did! No way! I shake my head and look out the window. “Hmm. Just drive.”