Easter Bunny
Yeah, I know it’s Christmas and all, but my beautiful baby friend (bka Trish) sent me this note about Porter on Friday and thought it was super cool.
Porter asked me this afternoon, out of the blue, “Is the Easter Bunny a real bunny?” I asked him, “Do you really want to know?” “Yes,” he answered. I made sure: “Are you sure you really want to know?” He did. I thought for a second — reflecting on how much I’ve always hated lying to him about Santa Claus — and finally told him (thinking of the Polar Express), “The Easter Bunny is real if you believe in it. And if you don’t believe it’s real, then it’s not.”
I remember at Carl and Spencer’s funeral, and one of his teachers was telling a story about 4-year-old Spencer*. It was Easter, and one this teacher’s fellow instructor was dressed up like the Easter Bunny. Spencer asked the teacher where the other teacher was. She was speechless, and then Spencer glanced at the Easter Bunny and just kind of exchanged a knowing smile with the teacher. I picture that happening with Porter one day — that we’ll be talking about Santa, and we’ll just exchange sweet, knowing glances… and that’ll be that.
When she told me the story I was reminded of the first day of Physics in 11th grade. The first thing the teacher asked was , “What is real?” After going through our senses and other stuff he said, “Whatever you believe is real, is real.” Then we did word problems for 8 months. Jerk.
*Spencer was a student at the Ethical Society Sunday School.