Good egg

Happy celebration of birth and renewal--spring, Passover, Easter, pick your poison.

"The Easter bunny isn't real," the Boy said tonight, "Everybody knows that Santa and the Easter bunny and all that is just your parents."

"Who on earth told you THAT?" I asked, in my best non-plussed voice. "What a crazy thing to say."

"Oh," he said, "Jim and I have been talking about it all week." And then later, lying in bed, he bemoaned the fact that he couldn't fall asleep. "If I don't fall asleep, the Easter bunny won't come!" "I thought the Easter bunny wasn't real," I said. "Oh, no!" he yelped, "I just said that because I wanted Jim to think I was cool! I DO believe in him! What if he doesn't come because of what I said!!??"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'm sure he'll still come. But if you want things to happen, you have to believe that they will."

It went by so fast, that age of unprotesting belief. But I'll play along for another year. The thing about my Boy is, even when he was very young, he could see through things. I think that's one reason he rarely has nightmares or is bothered or scared by books or movies (not that I let him watch "Night of the Living Dead" or anything, but he has read and seen Harry Potter 1-4, and liked them a lot but never got freaked out by the scary parts). He's a good sport, so I don't think he'll mind. I had a regular meltdown when I finally realized the jig was up--accused my mother of lying to me my whole life, oh the agony. I have the feeling the Boy will just shrug his shoulders, confirm the fact that he'll still get chocolate, and move on.

But I'll miss him when he goes.