Since when did Easter become a mini Christmas? Seriously, when did this happen? Was it always this way and I’ve just been living under a rock not unlike the rock at the entrance to the tomb of Jesus? Now that I have my own egg-seeking chocolate muncher, other moms are asking me…
– So what are you giving Max for Easter?
– Uhhh… turkey dinner?
– Oh (you terrible mother.)
– Why – am I supposed to give him gifts for Easter?
– Well, you don’t have to. But you know, some parents (good parents) give their kids candy eggs, chocolate bunnies…
– Oh yeah, I could do that. They sell that stuff at the liquor store, right?
– …and clothes, toys, bikes, video games…
– Shit, son! The Easter Bunny is trying to show up the jolly old elf. Is this revenge for Santa sporting that fur-trimmed suit? Should I put up a tree and set snares under it?
Call social services or the Grinch Police because Max ain’t gettin’ none of it. Okay, maybe he’ll get one chocolate egg or a rice krispie bunny, but that’s about it. That’s enough – he’s two! One chocolate bunny is bigger than his head! Well, not really; he has an enormous head, but you get my point. And between the loot of Christmas and his birthday, he’s got more clothes than the combined wardrobes of Suri Cruise and the Housewives of Orange County.
Christmas is bad enough. Commercialized up the ass. What’s that – the baby Jesus was born? Excellent – I think I’ll go drop a grand at Sears to celebrate. The Bible… The Sears catalog… What’s the diff? I mean I guess I get it: Christmas is about love, and we show our love by giving each other frivolous junk. And at least it’s just once a year, right? Once a year ain’t so bad. I mean it’s not like we’re stuck paying off the debt for months afterward.
But, oh wait, just a couple of months later and here comes the big ol’ floppy-eared frigger with his bountiful basket of crap. Yay? I’m a bit of a pagan myself, but even I know Easter is supposed to be about the ultimate sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus. On Good Friday, there was no big ass bunny hanging on the cross with rusty nails in his paws, blood trickling down his fluffy white fur. And when they rolled away the stone of the tomb, they didn’t find a stockpile of Cadbury Crème eggs in there.
I was at the mall last week. Parents were lined up with their kids to get their picture taken with the Easter Bunny. A few months ago, they forced their kids to sit on the lap of a creepy old man in a red velvet suit and ratty beard. And now it was time to get cozy with some sweaty guy in an enormous rabbit suit. And seriously, this bunny was scary. I came across Max’s copy of the Velveteen Rabbit yesterday and the cover scared the shit out of me.
So what other Christian holiday shall we commercialize to death? Since we have this dry period around summer with no excuse to further spoil our already rotten children, how about we have a Noah’s Ark Day and give our kids expensive watercraft? Every child needs a Sea-doo. And perhaps we could pick another day and pretend it’s the day Jonah got swallowed by the whale. We could have some dude dress up in a whale suit and make our kids sit in his mouth.