I Miss That Damn Rabbit!

Another holiday over. More time to wax rhapsodically about how much more fun it was when the kids were small. Easter was one of those holidays that had a lot of traditions in our family. Like everyone else we colored eggs, visited the giant bunny at the mall and baked a ham. Our unique activity was making up a batch of Easter themed butter cookies and painting them with pastel-colored frosting. My sister and I started this tradition when our kids were born and all of them seemed to enjoy it (especially after they figured out they could eat the paint!). Now, of course, no one but my ten year-old nephew is interested in the cookie painting so that little activity was scratched for this year. I couldn't help myself, however, from making a couple of pathetic baskets for my twenty-one and twenty-three year old "children", all the while remembering the fun stuff I used to find to surprise them. I even boiled a dozen eggs and coerced them both (as well as my son's girlfriend) into decorating them. I've never seen so many eyes roll at once, (although I swear I saw a secret hint of delight at their finished projects). My husband couldn't believe I was actually doing any of this. "Let it go", he said (more than once). But, like most moms, I just can't. The best I can do is keep my holiday mania on a low simmer until some eager, smiling, appreciative faces that call me "Nana" show up on the scene.