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The Day the Easter Bunny died

Mar 29, 2018

I thought to share with you the very sad day that my belief of the Easter Bunny followed Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy to oblivion. It was my seventh year, the day before Easter, I was bursting with anticipation.  I could recall that the year before had yielded a hefty amount of chocolates in all shapes and forms, my sisters and I collected bounty from our grandparents and our parents, so we were really stocked up on bright coloured things, baskets and  firmly believed in this magical rabbit that somehow made all of this stuff happen.

A natural schemer, it wasn’t long before my little brain began concocting a scheme to squeeze every last bit of sugary goodness out of the opportunity before me.  Enlisting my sisters was easy, and the plan was made, we were going to trap and keep the Easter bunny, this would result in an unlimited supply of chocolate forever, a delicacy that was not too frequent in our house with my mother reading every possible ingredient of any edible items to weed out preservatives…

The plan was a simple one, we would wake up early, go into the garden and hide in the bushes.  When the Easter bunny appears, we would trap him in a blanket, and then Mr Bunny will live in our toy closet from which escape was impossible, easy and flawless.

As soon as we woke up, we grabbed the blanket and raced down the hall, opening the patio door…and to our shock discovered our parents kneeling in the grass, brightly coloured eggs in their hands, my mum’s head adorned with rabbit ears.

Imagine that you are seven years old.  You have just exploded enthusiastically out of your house, waking up at the unseemly hour of 5am on a holiday, expecting to find the Easter bunny, which you are hoping to trap and keep as your chocolate-making slave.  Instead, you find your parents, not a bunny in sight, with your mum wearing rabbit ears.

What does your brain do with this information?  Jump to conclusions of course! My mum killed the Easter bunny and harvested his ears to wear as a hat. Grief-stricken and quite scared, we fled to my room. My mum, unaware of our bizarre thoughts followed to offer comfort. I’m pretty sure she assumed that we were simply upset over the realization that the Easter bunny wasn’t real and was trying her hardest to convince us that she was just “helping” the Easter bunny because he was “sick.”

Jokes aside, Easter is a blessed time it is the holiest of days in the Christian calendar, a time of realised hope and renewed life. In the spirit of this season, from all of us at Loanezi, we wish you and your family a blessed and safe Easter

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