Posted By Marti on April 21, 2014
Hope all of you had a delightful Easter!
When I was a little girl, Easter was a pretty simple affair. I woke up to a small basket of goodies – a single chocolate bunny (hollow, and in a very ungodly way, I envied those who got solid chocolate) some jellybeans, maybe a Peep or two. I was not allowed to eat any of it until after church though so I wouldn’t get messy. I admit, was a sloppy chocolate eater.
Then came the outfit. A pastel colored dress, usually made of fabric stiff enough to stand on it’s own. It had a built-in nylon net petticoat that itched like the dickens but wriggling in church from the scratchy fabric was sure to earn me a frown from my mother. I am now required by Southern law to add “God rest her soul” since she is deceased and that is what we Southerners have to say, even if we don’t mean it.
Sometimes there was a hat, but I am not good with hats. They tended to get sat on or lost despite the most valiant efforts of God-rest-her-soul mother who tried hairpins, ribbons and other attachment devices that inevitable failed.
After church I was allowed to eat some candy, which was the highlight of the day. (Sorry Pastor, but the sermon was usually tedious for a waiting-to-get-home-to-eat-chocolate child.)
Then I grew up and had children of my own.
Somewhere along the way, Easter morphed into an “event.” Now it was like Second Christmas replete with presents – usually video game related for all of our youngens. The baskets had a plethora of candy – chocolate bunnies, Peeps, Cadbury eggs (one or two of those didn’t make it into the baskets, but were hidden away in my private reserve.)
We colored eggs (and fingers and much of the kitchen.) We tried different egg projects. There were shrinky-dink wraps that were easy to use but if you got the pre-printed sleeve misplaced, the drawing got warped into weird, terrifying designs and the plastic wrap shrank and formed an anus.
The baskets for the children were always stuffed with that shredded green cellophane stuff that sticks around way longer than the candy. If there is an apocalypse that only leaves the cockroaches on Earth, they will rebuild their world with plastic Easter grass.
But now I am old. There are no small children here, so no Peter Cottontail hoppin’ down the bunny trail. If anything went hippity-hoppity in my house now, breakity bones would likely be the result.
I still love chocolate though, so the day AFTER Easter is our holiday. The day we go to the chocolate store and pick up the delicious treasures now marked down to half-price.
Welcome to Geezer Easter. No egg hunts, no baskets but lots of goodies a day late.
And a Peep show.