Monday, March 24, 2008

Here comes Peter Cottontail

Easter has come and gone and all-in-all things went pretty well. When I was a kid the Easter Bunny would bring me a basket that was full of candy. My children also get some candy in their Easter basket but not nearly as much as I did when I was a child. For me, the success of Easter was measured by how deep into a diabetic coma you slipped by the end of the day. Because we are good parents we don't subject our children to the tooth decay nightmare that we endured. Instead, we substitute toys and other material goods for the bulk of the candy. Better our children should grow up materialistic slobs than fat. It's all about priorities.

The other difference between my childhood and my children's is that my children are blessed with an extended family that feels the need to buy them gifts regardless of the occasion. I don't have a problem with this because that's what grandparents and aunts and uncles are for. And so it was that on Easter morning my children had a basket from the Easter Bunny, a basket from there aunt, a basket from their grandmother, a basket from their great-grandmother, and a basket from their grandfather. It's good to be a kid in my house. Actually, the kids didn't receive the basket from my sister until later in the day because my sister wanted to hide the baskets and have the children look for them. That's the way it was done when we were children and so that's the way my sister insists that it is done for my children. My sister believes that all children should do things exactly the way that she did them when she was a child regardless of whether or not they belong to her, her brother, or strangers passing by on the street.

Their grandfather sent them some Play-Doh because he somehow sensed that I had managed to get rid of all of the Play-Doh in the house. Play-Doh, like herpes or that time in college when you accidentally pissed yourself at a party, never really goes away. It is, pound for pound, the most mess you can make with any toy. It is maximum messiness because not only do you get little bits of Play-Doh all over the place but once they have been stepped on they can no longer be swept up. They must be scraped. I once saw a guy at the mall whose entire job consisted of walking around with a putty knife and scraping gum off of the floor. I'm not saying it's not a necessary job but it can't be that high on the marketable skills chart. Now, I'm that guy.


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