Easter bunny and eggs

AS A KID, I adored rabbits. I worshipped Bugs Bunny, ate raw carrots, owned a mountain of rabbit stuffed toys, bought countless rabbit stickers and talked my parents into buying me my own living, breathing Bugs Bunny.

Easter, therefore, was one of my favorite holidays.

I loved the mystery of the Easter Bunny. At that time, it was rather confusing-was it the rabbit who would lay the brightly colored eggs? But then again, that was scientifically impossible. Or did the bunny pair up with a giant chicken who would lay the Easter eggs?

Either way, it never really mattered who produced the eggs, but what was really important was finding these colorful treats.

I remember waking up on Easter Sundays without much refusal and the customary “five more minutes.” Dressed in mismatched sleepwear, I’d run around our old apartment trying to find the hidden treats that the “Easter Bunny” lovingly placed in tiny baskets filled with synthetic grass.

Treats like colorful hard-boiled eggs, egg-shaped candies, chocolate Easter Bunnies and stuffed toys are what I would usually find (not the healthiest breakfast, I know).

As I think about it (and as you remember your own Easter experiences), it is childhood memories like this that make me want to become a child again. To wake up on Easter Sunday and wonder what the Easter Bunny has left me-would I find another stuffed toy or would there be more chocolate and candies this year?

Ah, the wonders of a child’s mind.

The Easter Bunny never really did last long, though. I soon discovered that the Easter Bunny was my mother, who would wake up in the wee hours of the morning and diligently hide the treats all over our apartment.

Nevertheless, believing in the Easter Bunny (or in Santa Clause for that matter) was fun while it lasted, although it was rather disheartening to find out that a life-sized “bunny-wabbit” did not exist.

When we moved to the Philippines, I tried to bring the tradition of Easter egg hunting with us. It lasted for a few years, until that fateful year when we forgot how many eggs we hid in our house.

All of you should know that once an egg rots, it stinks big time. Apparently, we failed to find one egg, which was hidden behind a desk.

After a few days, finding it wasn’t really that difficult.

We stopped the whole egg hunting tradition after that smelly fiasco, and have since preferred a subtler and less stinky Easter celebration.

May your Easter be a happy one, and please do count your eggs before hiding them.