I would consider my past self as someone who believed that children should hang on to those magical, mythical present depositors for as long as possible. But now that I'm a whole eight years into this shit, I'm ready to break the news to my kids.
Before you blow up my comments with how and why I shouldn't shatter their magical childhood, don't worry. I want to, but I won't. Not yet anyway.
So, as I'm planning the Easter baskets for the kids this year, two things happened.
I told Jay how stressed I was about all I had to do this Spring including the baskets, and he said, "Oh. Those are easy." To which I replied, "Great. Then you are assigned Easter basket duty." He said, "Fine. I'll just go to Walgreen's and get one that's already made and ready to go."
I didn't say anything back, but you know I cringed. Because you just cringed when you read that.
I made a list of what I wanted to put in their baskets. I was going for simple and fun. My list included sidewalk chalk, a birdhouse that they can paint, some seeds to plant, etc. You know, crunchy mommy things. Anyway, I started thinking about how creative and wonderful I am and how much they'll LOVE these baskets...that they get...FROM THE EASTER BUNNY?! And I realized then and there that I'm completely over busting my ass to make this magic on behalf of someone/thing that doesn't even exist!
They'll grow up remembering that they had great baskets and gifts, sure, but they won't be able to thank me on the spot for the things they love. Selfish of me, I know, but those suckers are a lot of work, and I've done my time!
In conclusion, I'll probably let my husband buy the crappy baskets from Walgreen's...NEXT Easter. This year, I'm going to let the Easter Bunny blow their mind one last time and look surprised at how amazing and creative that jellybean-pooping, boiled egg-dying, candy-hiding, spotlight-stealing rabbit is!