Ah, spring… the air is fresh, flowers are blooming, bunnies are hopping, birds are singing, April showers are… well, they kind of suck, but only because my birthday is in April and it always rains on my birthday.
But back to our happy vision… it’s finally no longer winter. That means hippity hoppity Easter is on its way. Thoughts turn to children in their best dresses or suits, little girls in bonnets, and eggs of pretty colors decorating baskets. And, of course, the Easter Bunny.
Or, as I’ve taken to calling him: the Creepster Bunny.
It is my belief that there is no childhood fantasy deliverer-of-goodies creepier than this guy.
Santa Claus is magical and brings tidings of comfort and joy and goodwill and childhood wonder and lessons of what it means to give, as God gave the world His Son out of love. The Tooth Fairy is also magical, comes to take our nasty fallen-out teeth, because who wants those laying around?, and leaves cold, hard cash under the pillow. Total score. Also, she’s probably kind of hot, or at least she is in my head, and though I’m straight, it’s always better when they’re pretty. Pretty = fairy. Ugly = witch. Fact.
The Cree– uh, Easter Bunny is a six-foot tall furry animal with huge ears and giant buck teeth, fundamentally unrelated to anything religious but using Easter as an excuse to show up. Nobody knows how he gets into your house, and he leaves you unwrapped candy and unrefrigerated eggs.
Really? We allow this?
Which of these is the most likely to be a total perv? The Creepster Bunny. You know it. Because even though Santa lets you sit on his lap and tug on his beard and whisper in his ear, and even though the Tooth Fairy flies into your bedroom and gets super-close to you while you sleep, the Creepster Bunny is worse. He isn’t so much as marginally human. He’s not even necessary. He’s a feverish nightmare. Where do we come up with this stuff?
And why does he bring candy and eggs? Bunnies can’t eat candy and they don’t eat eggs. They don’t even lay eggs.
WTF is up with this guy?
Highly suspicious, I tell you.
So I looked it up. Rabbits are symbols of fertility. Eggs are also symbols of fertility. Spring is the time when everything comes to life, so okay, fine, that’s lovely. I get the premise there. I still argue that rabbits don’t lay eggs, so we’re confusing the children with that whole thing. Where the candy comes from I have not been able to ascertain, although there is the argument that chocolate is an aphrodisiac and that, too, is about fertility. But I made up that argument.
There is no explanation of how he gets into your house. No coming down the chimney, or having a magic key (which is what Santa has for people who don’t have chimneys, FYI). There’s no way the thing can flutter in on gossamer wings. You never hear stories about how this thing hops around the world to every (Christian) kid’s house in one night without the aid of flight.
It’s all wrong, and I’m having none of it.
I asked my sister, who is the mother of a 13-month-old, whether she and her husband are taking the kid to see the Creepster Bunny. She said, “Good Lord, no.” She and I agree on the Bunny. We remember the photo of our twin nephews, at four months old, lying in the arms of a giant, disproportionate rabbit at a mall. We discussed the photo when it came in the mail. We both thought it was so terrifying that we cringed every time we looked at it.
Now, those twins are three, and one of them is actually skeeved out by the idea of an old dude sneaking into his house in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, even if he does bring presents.
Smart kid. I’m worried about what will happen when he finds the picture of him and his brother with the Creepster Bunny.