Easter Memories

"Can you believe we didn't take one picture of Easter?" I complained to Mr. Wicke.  "How did we manage that?"

I suppose all that's left, after our picture-less holiday, is to capture a couple of moments with words.  There are two memories I don't want to forget.

Like us, once again coloring Easter eggs at 9 pm on Saturday night.  It happens every single year, and it goes a little something like this:  "C'mon.  Hurry up.  It's late.  We've got to get to bed.  Just stick the egg in there.  That's good enough.  Okay.  Next one.  Keep it moving."  Okay, so maybe that's just my inner monologue.

This year, as we pull in the garage from visiting friends whom we only get to see every few years, it hits me.  "Oh, no.  The eggs."  Mr. Wicke and I peer exhaustedly at each other remembering the dozen eggs that had been cooked earlier in the day.  At the same time we look at Logan sick and asleep in the backseat.

"Eggs?  Yippee!"  Griffin shouts.

"Ssshh!" Mr. Wicke and I say simultaneously.

"What do you want to do?" he asks as we begin to unload.

"I don't know."  I'm racking my brain to figure any way out of coloring the eggs tonight.  I'm tired, too, but what I realize is there is no alternative.  "We've got to have the eggs, and the kids would be totally bummed if they missed doing it," I relent.

"What about Logan?" he asks as he carries her in the house.

"I don't know.  I guess we ask her."  And then gently waking her up I say, "Logan, honey?  Do you want to color the Easter eggs or do you just want to go to bed?"

She colored the Easter eggs.  You just can't keep a good kid down.

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The other fond memory happened the next morning.  All too early the kids come padding into our bedroom.  "Mom!  Dad!  It's Easter!"

"It's 5 am.  Too early.  Go back to bed."

An hour later they return, "We've waited as long as we can.  We can't sleep.  I bet the Easter Bunny's been here!"

Mr. Wicke and I roll over and wipe the sleep out of our eyes.  "Why are you up so early?"

"It's just so exciting that we can't sleep!"  Logan responds.  It's good to see that the antibiotic is kicking in.

"Okay.  Let me go downstairs and check it out," Mr. Wicke acquiesces.

"Get in bed with me while Daddy sees if the Easter Bunny has come," I say as I roll over and attempt a brief nap.

It is quickly interrupted.  "You know, I've been thinking it must be a man dressed up in a costume," Logan muses.

"What?" I am quickly realizing no one will be going back to sleep.

"The Easter Bunny.  I think it must be a man dressed up in a bunny costume...but to go all around the world and hide all those eggs?  He'd have to get a big salary...so I sort of doubt that...but then again I don't know how a bunny could hold a basket in his paws...besides they're real skittish animals.  You throw a rock at the wall and they run right away, so..."

"Wow.  You've given this a lot of thought," I say in awe.

"What do you think, Mommy?"

I am saved by the return of Mr. Wicke.  "Yup.  The Easter Bunny's been here.  I think I may have even him jump over the fence when I opened the back door."

And with that, the conjectures regarding the true identity of the Easter Bunny are finished, and the kids run down the stairs with only the thoughts of Easter baskets and egg hunts in their minds.  The Easter Bunny is safe for yet another year.