Here’s looking at you, Easter Bunny!

And that’s the way it was fourteen years ago. A two-year-old was in a face-off with the Easter Bunny, unsure of this tall furry creature in the park. Dozens of chubby-legged preschoolers dragged their brimming baskets from egg to egg, delighting in every pastel find. Candy-filled eggs with melting chocolate and jelly beans were sprinkled across the lawn for easy spotting. Parents lined the perimeter of the egg hunting grounds, lighting up with as much joy as their own child with every prize.

We may not have any more face-offs, but the Easter Bunny still makes a showing at our house. A new acquaintance teased me about buying gummy bunnies for the Easter baskets. “They still get baskets?!?” I just can’t stop the Easter Bunny from coming. I can’t.

Those cute chocolate bunnies sit like a trophy, front and center in the basket. I always went for the long chocolatey ears first. Then I picked out the blue sugared eyes and tiny orange carrot. The boys, they just pick around hollowed-out Peter Cottontail, looking for the mini Reese’s peanut butter cups, the good stuff. I don’t care. I like the 1970s replica. There’s something for everyone in those baskets even if some of it is just for show.

I brag to anyone about how even in college, we had a treasure hunt. The Easter Bunny still visits when the spirit is still alive. I think it is in the DNA. As the saying goes, the Easter egg doesn’t fall far from the basket. You know what I mean. The boys got the holiday gene from me, passed down from my dad to me. I know because once, the baskets didn’t come since we were traveling back from Florida and somebody sighed a great teenage sigh. Why did the Easter Bunny skip that year?

The chocolate bunny is going to follow them to college and beyond. I just know it.