The following was originally posted on Kevin's blog, MyMediaDiary.
It was already a big night. I was able to stay up a little later than my three younger sisters. I was a cocky eight-year-old sitting on the vinyl couch in the lower floor of our tri-level watching The 10 Commandments. I think Edward G. Robinson was just taunting Charlton Heston when he door-wall slid open and my dad's face appeared, "Want to help me hide the eggs?"
It took a moment for the shift away from my childhood to sink in as I looked back to Edward G. as I considered my father's words.
"The Easter eggs."
Then I must have given the cartoon double-take as my wide-eyed expression made my dad laugh.
"You're the Easter bunny?"
He laughed and nodded. Then, my denial didn't want to ask the inevitable follow-up. But I did.
He smiled and shook his head.
Wow. What a moment. I suppose the mourning over my innocence lasted nearly ten seconds, until I thought of the next morning, the morning of the hunt. The morning of my omniscience.
I never let it dawn on me as I sought the eggs at six-foot heights, that the rabbit must be a high jumper -- or worse, a giant rodent prowling our house at night. Denial can carry you pretty far.
When you've got the real eggs going, the hard-boiled ones, you can't risk not finding them all. You'll pay the price days later. Even as a dad, I have to take careful notes to count the eggs hidden so no stinky man is left behind -- even if that man is Humpty Dumpty.
So I grabbed a flashlight and went out into the cool evening with my father to tuck plastic eggs under bushes and in the sandbox. I laughed to myself as I knew what I'd say the next morning to my sleepy sisters.
"Hmmm, Colleen. Maybe you should look under that frisbee."
Omniscience and smugness is a decent trade-off for loss of an entire belief system.
And to misquote Edward G. "Where's your Easter Bunny nowwwww?"