This is for all the young’uns out there — those who are under the age of about 5. I feel your pain.

But take heart … it’s almost over, for at least another seven months.

It’s Easter weekend, which means a myriad of special events have or will take place to celebrate Christ defeating death and rising from His tomb on the third day. Those events include the usual array of egg hunts, sunrise prayer services and sermons telling the story of His rising.

Then there’s the one terrifying event of the holiday for most young children — that parental-enforced meeting with the huge, furry, big-eared, big-eyed, scary, snickering faux bunny rabbit. It’s like Uncle Wiggily Longears meets the Rabbit of Caerbannog.

I had the opportunity to sit in the courtyard of a regional mall recently. I’d purchased myself a hot dog and sweet tea to enjoy while my wife spent time traipsing through a couple of shops. I knew I would have a solid hour … or more.

Just a handful of yards away from me was an adorable outdoor scene set up with blooming fake flowers, fake grass, a fake tree and fake background featuring a fake bright sun … along with a huge bench where that fake bunny rabbit sat.

A line had formed a few feet away from this scene, one that was filled with three types of people — an adult, a grade-schooler and a smaller young’un. For each family clump represented in that line, the process was the same. The adult was holding the hand or carrying the wide-eyed young’un while trying to keep the older, bees-in-his-britches child in line.

As each family unit got to the front of the line, the older child would voluntarily hop up to sit next to the big rabbit and the adult would begin to place the young’un on the bench, all while a tired-looking photographer waited.

That’s usually when all the craziness would break loose.

As the older child sat statue-like and tried to keep a smile plastered on his or her face, anticipating the flash of the camera, the young’un would break into instant hysteria while never taking an eye off the monster that was now within reach. It quickly became a wrestling match between adult and child that, in every single instance, the young’un would win.

The results usually meant the adult would pay for and walk away with either a photograph of the Easter Bunny with only the smiling older child OR a much more animated photograph of the Easter Bunny with a smiling older child and a young’un wailing uncontrollably while trying to get off the bench and escape.

One adult had instant diaper duty, which ruined my hot dog.

I will venture a guess that, for each one of those young’uns who experienced that pain and suffering of being forced to sit near something that was 10 times their size, those children went home and now knew exactly what the monster under the bed or in the closet looked like.

Of that, I speak from experience.

It may have been more than 55 years ago, but I remember it like it was … well, not that long ago. A volunteer fire station in Endwell, New York, had a “Visit with the Easter Bunny” event the day before Easter, and my parents wanted to get photos of their three children with the man in a really bad bunny suit.

Well, they got one — of me with my hands pushing on the bunny’s face, my younger sister trying to crawl over the back of the bench and my even younger brother sitting still but with a face contorted in sheer terror and crying a river all over his new white shirt, clip-on tie and blue pants.

Being a parent and grandparent, I understand why the attempt is made to get this type of Easter memory. But what adults need to realize is that, when their child first shows signs of “nope, not gonna,” then they should instantly stop with the effort to get their child and the monster rabbit to make nice.

This rule should also apply in about seven months when that round, red-suited, bearded elf shows up.

W. Curt Vincent can be reached at 910-506-3023 or [email protected].

W. Curt Vincent Editor
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