I got a text last night at 9:30 from the Easter Bunny.

She wanted me to know that there were eggs out front. She had tucked a couple in some tulips, a few behind the daffodils, three near the cedar tree. She wanted me to know where they were because she knew I wasn’t an ‘Easter mom’. I have yet to dye an egg or purchase chocolate. I haven’t made a goodie basket or busted out the pastels. I haven’t let my toddler do any holiday-related crafts. What even is a holiday-related craft?

You see why the Easter Bunny had to step in.

Luckily, I’m on extremely good terms with the Easter Bunny. We’ve been friends for a year now, and she’s willing to throw me a cadbury bone during this childhood benchmark. All she asks in return is I occasionally grab an item at the grocery store if we’re going, or send Ben over for a handyman project from time to time.

We live across the street from her.

Did I not mention that? Her name is Rebecca. She’s lovely.

So thanks to Rebecca and her generous bunny ways, we had a successful egg hunt this morning and the Cub was delighted and had many questions about why the “Beaster Bunny” wouldn’t stick around after leaving all these eggs. The best I could come up with was: “The Beaster Bunny has to head home. She’s tired! She’s healing from a foot surgery! She needs to put up her paws and enjoy a cup of coffee. She’s earned it. She loves you and can’t wait to bring you more eggs next year.”

It looked like that explanation wasn’t going to cut it, but then he realized that all the eggs were full of chocolate.

So, there you go. Easter. Nailed it.

Sending love from on top of the hill,