An eggs-istential crisis

A person wearing a rabbit costume walking towards the sunset.

Easter is almost upon us and with it comes the confusion as to who the chocolate eggs come from. I like to refer to it as an eggs-istential crisis. Does the bunny deserve the credit, or should it be awarded much closer to home?

Due to the fact that this celebration is literally a moveable feast, it always catches me off guard. Last year, I found myself tangled in a farcical web of lies of my own making.

Despite taking time to focus my thoughts on the matter before writing this post, I’m still none the wiser and a chocolate-based omnishambles surely awaits this year.

However, it has got me thinking about similar benevolent types. Yes, the tooth-obsessed sprite and the bearded chap.

Oldest will be nine this summer but still very much believes in all of the above. That said, he’s obviously starting to question it all.

This is thanks in part to one of his school friends casually telling him that everybody’s favourite reindeer owner doesn’t exist.

He chose the Easter egg aisle in Asda to loudly tell me about this. I suddenly became aware of at least two other children and their parents intently watching to see how I would respond.

I did what a politician would do and replied with a completely unrelated soundbite that made me look good. Namely that we eat a lot of vegetables and should buy some more.

Luckily, that was that. He’s strong-willed so I don’t think he’s necessarily swayed by what his friend said, but the question is clearly in mind.

And, given the location of the impromptu grilling, the Easter Bunny seems to be implicated. A true eggs-istential crisis! This could have dire consequences for the tooth fairy too.

Part of me wants to have a word with him now and gently burst the bubble. I imagine a fair few of his friends have sussed it all out by now and I don’t want to do him a disservice by potentially leaving him open to mocking from others once Christmas rocks up.

I think he’ll be able to take it too. The trouble is that we have two other children. And, although I trust him to not tell them, he takes after me in possessing a really loud voice!

If I let the cat out of the bag – or the rabbit out of existence – now, there could be a domino effect. At just three, youngest is definitely too young to have the magic spoiled, so that vetoes it for now.

We’ve decided that any conversation needs to be instigated by him and not us. And that, when he asks again, we’ll tell him that it’s a bit like religion.

Namely that different people believe different things and it’s up to him what he believes. And, of course, to respect the beliefs of others.

Then make him become a monk and take a vow of silence until his sister is at least six years old.

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