Putting your Bunny to Good Use

Folks, it's that time of the year again: where we remember Jesus Christ, where we stuff our faces with animal shaped chocolate, and where we can finally stop tormenting our roommates by going to Starbucks because Lent is finally over. And you thought I would be too specific in this blog!

I'm not particularly religious, so I've never used this time to reflect on Jesus, and searching for candy-filled eggs and gorging ourselves in chocolate doesn't do a fantastic job reminding us of what Easter is all about. I think Eddie Izzard would agree:

When I was little, I was so enthralled by the idea of eating extra dessert, that the whole "what is this supposed to mean?" thing kind of escaped me. I just demolished some bunnies. Now that I'm nineteen, I'm staring to see Easter a little differently:

Pay no attention to the headless bunny behind the curtain

I've stopped Easter egg hunting since I was ten. And by ten I mean sixteen. Because the holiday has been increasingly losing its magic every year, I've grown disheartened by this loss of joy towards what once evoked sleepless nights six months before the actual holiday. Even the chocolate, while still delicious, doesn't have that magic je ne sais quoi. Perhaps that's because it's American chocolate, not French.

So are the older just doomed to sad and depressing holidays because they aren't as magical as they once were? Is that why Christmas makes everyone over the age of twenty want to huddle in a corner? Perhaps yes, for some who want to live in their own personal soap opera, or who watched The Grinch one too many times. But have no fear--you don't have to instantly become religious or age negative ten years in order to enjoy the chocolate-eating activities.

The answer? Kids.

No, I'm not pulling a "16 and pregnant" on you and telling you to go pop out a few babies. But if you can surround yourself by nieces, nephews, cousins, students, etc. during a holiday, that magical feel instantly comes back. I guarantee it. I had an early Easter dinner with family last weekend, and my little cousin Liam had his very first egg hunt. Watching his face light up in delight after finding that first egg was a hundred times more exciting than any egg hunt I'd participated in before. That kid is going to be wild in hide 'n seek, let me tell you, because he found twelve eggs in a matter of three minutes. At two years old. I swear, this should be news for the presses.

My dad used to tell me religiously (no pun intended) that "when you're older, you get more joy out of seeing your kids' happiness than your own." I would shove some bunny ears into my mouth, nod, and say "okay Dad, what's your point?"
He also told me that you should separate your colors from whites and wash your clothes in hot water. Some things never stick.
But his first piece of advice did. Even if you're a long way away from having kids yourself, just offering some little pieces of joy to any little kid is going to impact both the kid and yourself. Hiding a few plastic ovals may not seem like a lot, but once you see that kid run around like he's just won the lottery, it starts to make more sense.

My older cousins heavily influenced my brother's and my own childhood simply by flinging playmobile cars down a staircase, hunting for "New Jersey elves" and swinging hammocks. To this day, they are the coolest cousins a girl could ask for. What seems silly and fun to an adult is, to a kid, somewhere along the lines of ten new Harry Potter books.

Easter doesn't die when you start paying taxes. Hang with some kids, and you'll see what I mean.
And until then, there's always this to drown your "I'm getting old" sorrows in:

Namaste.