One Kid’s Remarkable Belief in Easter Bunny Magic

It was Christmas Eve, and the house sounded as if it were late enough that I could get away with creeping downstairs to peek at what Santa had brought. I avoided noisy spots on the stairs, paused each time I heard something, and finally reached the hallway before the family room.

There was a light on. Maybe Santa had left it on?

I peered around the corner to find my mom lying out the gifts.

The gifts Santa was supposed to have brought.

“Mom, you’re Santa?” I asked.

I wanted her to say no.

To tell me that she, too, was curious about what the magic man had brought her children.

That she couldn’t sleep.

That anything, that meant Santa was real.

Instead, she said “Yes, honey, but don’t tell your brothers.”

And just like that, what I’d suspected became harsh reality.

I was in on the secret.

But this isn’t about me finding out that Santa isn’t real (and therefore realizing that neither was the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, or Leprechauns). Instead, this is the story of one kid’s remarkable belief in Easter Bunny magic.

And leprechauns.

And Santa.

All the magic.

“Mom, are leprechauns real?” Oh, how to answer. I thought about it. He’ll turn nine years old this summer. “No, Buddy,” I replied.

Instant tears welled up in his eyes.

Crap. Wong answer. He’s only eight! Gah.

He believes. He really, truly believes everything I tell him, and that leprechauns, Santa, and the Easter Bunny being real is something I’ve not only told him, but he has proof in gifts and the magic of not waking up to find me playing Santa.

“Well, I think leprechaun magic is real,” I said.

“I’ve never seen one though.”

“They’re real,” he said. “They’re this big,” showing me with his hands.

His knuckles remain dimples; one of the few things to hold on to from his baby years as his body grows further from child each hour (SOB).

I get up, kiss the dimple on a knuckle, and say “You’re probably right.”

***

We were packing for a spring break trip to Colorado when he asked “Mom, what will the Easter Bunny do?” I’d already thought about this, and had packed a little bag of treats with a note for the last night of our visit, saying there was a surprise at home for him.

“What do you mean, what will he do?” I asked.

“I mean, how will he know we’re in Colorado? Does he watch us all the time like Santa does?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” I said.

He mentioned the Easter Bunny several times on our trip. Wondering whether he’d visit us there, or at home.

Not visiting us at all didn’t cross his mind, as far as I know.

On Easter Eve (is it called Easter Eve??), we swam in a (to me) too-cold pool at night.

 

We warmed up after showers in fluffy hotel robes.

 

We talked about Easter, and the Easter Bunny.

“I wouldn’t expect too much, Buddy,” I said. To keep it realistic and all.

“He’ll find us,” he said.

This kid, he’s remarkable. He urged me to not ask for Alexa for my birthday, because “she doesn’t really know things, Mom.”

When I asked what he meant, he told me he’d seen a commercial on YouTube, and that some kid asked Alexa if Santa was real.

“She said ‘no,’ Mom, so obviously she doesn’t know everything.”

So determined to believe. How can I stop that now?

I can’t.
I won’t.

On Easter morning, he sat up. I waited for him to see what had happened next to the door. “He didn’t come,” he said, looking around and then lit up completely when he saw that he had visited, after all.

With treats.

His whole body jolted as he ran to find the surprise with a note saying there was another surprise at home.

Then (and this is the part where I write about one kid’s remarkable belief in Easter Bunny magic), he tried to figure out how the Easter Bunny got into the hotel room.

A snoopier kid would’ve seen the bag of candy next to his underpants in my suitcase. But nope. Not this kid. This is one kid who believes in Easter Bunny magic.

We were on the second floor, and I’d showed him the bolts on the door and how to undo them in case of a fire or some emergency. He went out to the balcony, and had it all figured out.

“Mom! The Easter Bunny knows Parkour!” Look!

He took my hand to show me the bushes and the roof on the balcony below us. Said that the balcony door hadn’t been locked, so obviously, the Easter Bunny knows Parkour and that’s how he got in.

Also, we spent the next billion hours traveling (see some of that drama here on Facebook) and when we got home, there was a cool Lego set left by none other than the Easter Bunny next to Tucker’s door.

And now, I wonder how I’ll ever break it to him that these magical characters who sneak into our house to deliver presents are just parents, making for-now magic, and for-later disappointments.

In the meantime, I’ll take one kid’s remarkable belief in Easter Bunny magic for the win. Oh, and parkour, too.

This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, that I, along with my fabulous co-host Kenya G. Johnson of Sporadically Yours host a linkup each week with a prompt. This week’s is “This April Fools and/or Easter…” and next week’s is a listicle of 10 things I hate more than anything. We’d love for you to join us.