The Easter Parade

 

Preparing the Easter baskets for my children used to be a very uncomplicated task. Throw in some chocolate bunnies, a few colored eggs, maybe a sprinkling of marshmallow peeps, and some Cadbury Crème Eggs. Add a few coloring books or a little fuzzy bunny, and there was a pretty little basket filled with goodies, guaranteed to make their eyes shine and their tummies bulge. It was fun. About ten minutes of shopping, and it was accomplished. Not anymore. As my children got older, the filling of the baskets got harder, took longer, and just aren’t as much fun anymore.

Take, for instance, my oldest daughter. She’s a vegan, and she has a vegan husband. Do you know what this means? It means that there isn’t a single Easter-shaped candy that she is willing to eat. Vegans don’t eat eggs or dairy products. Check any Easter Bunny you see, and it has all sorts of Vegan poison in it, from whey to butter. This means that I have to search out non-traditional Easter treats, which takes whey—I mean, way—longer than it should. Considering her and her husband’s ages, I wondered if perhaps they were too old for Easter treats from mother…but if I follow through on that thought, it means that I’m too old for Easter treats from MY mother. That will not do.

The only real fun I’ve had this Easter is buying the basket stuff for our adopted children, our boy Blackie, and his ‘sister’ Buffy. The both got new chew bones, ‘chocolate’ doggy bunnies, and rawhide treats, along with an assortment of rope toys and squeaky toys. And new collars and new leashes. And fresh covers for their pillows, along with new stuffing for their beds. And a new mat to go under their dishes. You know, just a few trinkets.

Of course, my two sons will take any candy dished out to them. But what do I stick in for the ‘little gift’ I always add to the baskets? A little too old, at 20 and 22, for coloring books. This means a careful search up and down the aisles for something small but appropriate. Not a fuzzy bunny, not a little car…and so goes a complete afternoon, with nothing meaningful found. This is not fun. This is like Christmas shopping, only worse. I have a personal Easter present budget of $3.00—and that doesn’t give me much wiggle room. My youngest daughter is still at the age where it doesn’t matter what she gets, she loves it all. Frankly, I have no complaints about her. I could get a lipstick or a stuffed bunny, she wouldn’t care. I just have to make a quick sweep down the hair-care aisle and she’s done. I’m looking at ten minutes tops.

Luckily, I’ve managed to pull off the whole Easter Basket Goodness, but at a terrible cost to mind and pocketbook. There’s only one thing that will sooth me now. Anyone got a chocolate bunny I can bite the head from?