Saturday, April 7
When I was five years old we spent Easter travelling around Georgia and Florida. I remember hotel swimming pools, plastic booster seats, waitresses saying "have a nice day!" and disappointment at seeing the oldest schoolhouse in the US (my school in the UK was much older.
I also remember walking around a shopping mall, shivering at the cold air blasted out of the air conditioners and being taken to see the Easter Bunny. The Easter Bunny was residing in a small astroturf garden in the centre of the mall. Plastic flowers and patterned eggs were scattered over the lawn. There was a picket fence around the garden and a basket of chocolate eggs next to the Bunny. I was excited and eager to claim some of those chocolate eggs, but then the Easter Bunny stood up.
It was taller than my Dad with a blank expression on its face and big ears that wobbled scarily. I screamed, burst into tears and climbed up my Daddy as if he were a tree. I hung on like a small Koala until he took me away from that big big scary rabbit.
I was terrified, even more so because I had been told beforehand that the Easter Bunny would come creeping into my bedroom while I was asleep and hide some eggs for me to find in the morning. I did not want a giant rabbit in my room! In the end Mum wrote a letter to the Easter Bunny and stuck it on my bedroom door, explaining that I was scared of him and would he mind just leaving the eggs in the fridge instead.
When my brother was little our parents didn't tell him about the Easter Bunny at first in case he was frightened too. But it turned out that he wasn't bothered by a six foot rabbit creeping into his bedroom. My brother quite happily let a giant rabbit hide eggs in his room as he slept, but there was no way on earth that he was ever going to let an old fat man with a beard, dressed in red, into his room at Christmas time. He was scared of Santa.
at 10:50 AM