Friday, April 18, 2014

Easter (Bunny) Musings

I don't want to just make stuff up, really - I kind of like research and facts. If I don't know about something I tend to go directly to my preferred search engine and start seeking information. Even if it's just a tidbit here and there, it's likely more than I knew when I started. This makes me a font of useless knowledge and tidbits, but an expert in nothing special.

I heard something on the radio this morning that made me question myself and my fact seeking quests, though. The DJ - using his made-for-radio voice to fill time between songs - said, "...the average age that kids stop believing in the Easter Bunny is around age 6."

Really? Because my kids still believe, and they're 7 and 10, respectively. I would suspect my son has an idea that his mom is full of hot air...(something I don't deny, honestly)...but then thinking twice I wonder if he'd actually be upset to learn that the Easter Bunny is, in fact, me? My daughter asked me just last night if I thought the Easter Bunny was going to bring her a basket this year. I did my best, non-committal, "Hmmmm...we'll see," and left it at that.

Don't get me started on Santa Claus.

I suppose the lengths I go to to make stuff up for the sake of my kids happiness is further than I realized. I wonder if it's time for me to start backing off? These things have definitely been fun, mostly because it's pretty cool to watch their faces as I explain to them how I spoke personally with the Tooth Fairy to let her know that the lost tooth would not be under Beta Child's pillow because said child would be snuggling with me. This is important stuff. This is amazing stuff! I actually have the Tooth Fairy's cell phone number! And yes, it's magical.


1 comment:

Elizabeth Haren said...

I think my own mother still believes in Santa, the Easter Bunny, AND the Tooth Fairy... So, honestly, statistics don't capture individuality. Besides, even when I know what is really behind the curtain, sometimes the Wizard is still pretty great and powerful. By mutual consent, we suspend disbelief to embrace the gift of enjoying a season or rite of passage.