My older cousin is probably the one that broke the news to me. I probably tried to act cool - like I already knew. I don't really remember the exact details about finding out. And I don't clearly remember telling my mother about my new found knowledge. But I do clearly remember the devastation on her face when I told her I knew that she was the Easter bunny.
Most parents stop playing those parts when their children "grow out" of it. But I have a special kind of mother, the best kind, who up until this year, still labeled gifts from Santa, and still surprised me with treats "that the Easter bunny left at her house." I remember one Easter when I was dating my husband, the Easter bunny even left a basket for him at their house.
This past Christmas, she broke the news to my brother and me... Santa doesn't visit you anymore when you have your own children. My brother (whose wife was expecting) and I understood. But deep down, I think we were both a little sad. "No more Santa? Just because we have babies? No fair!"
Tonight, I prepared Nicholas' first Easter basket. As I contemplated where to leave it (his room? the stairs? the kitchen counter? Where does the Easter bunny leave these things?!), it suddenly dawned on me why Santa doesn't come anymore...it's because I am Santa. Duh...how could I not realize this before? Now, I am the Easter bunny. I'm Santa. I'm the Tooth Fairy.
I don't feel old enough for this. But here I am...wife, mother, Easter bunny.
I hope I can fill her shoes.