I was so the Easter Bunny

In light of the next big holiday, in my calendar, being Easter, I will write this very true story to commemorate the season of spring.

As you may have already read, my grandfather was the Santa Claus in the mall. This comes with almost no advantages, except not waiting in too much of a line up for your candy cane and Polaroid picture, and what was it? ...Oh yeah, being the Easter Bunny in the mall by means of inheritance. If papa can do it, I must have it in my blood.

And it meant $30.00 to a 14 yr old for whom money was not easy to come by.  I am left to wonder what price it would take for me to do this now, 26 yrs later.

My job was seemingly simple; walk around the mall first, waving and handing out chocolate eggs, and then retire to the Easter display, where awaited my comfy armchair, a velvet back drop, (and I freakin love velvet backdrops), the Polaroid camera with some other family member as the mall's photographer, and the fenced off cue area.
I will take the time to mention here, that the bunny costume left much to be desired. The first component of the suit was a zip up foot to neck, manufactured fur suit that in spring time, could leave the 14 yr old inside a sweaty mess, having to endure 100 degree temperatures. It also had a head that was hugely disproportionate to the body. Huge, heavy, and left to simply teeter on my shoulders. It had only two means of seeing out;  two huge eyes made of mesh, both at 45 degree angles from my own eyes. This basically means that I couldn't see anything that was directly in my path. This made for a very challenged bunny, who must be drunk because he keeps running into shit.

I was to seat children on my lap and wait for them to smile for the $5 Polaroid, give them some eggs, and shuffle them aside to make room for the next snotty, unsure, half scared half excited child.

Having no means of reference for the job I took my cues from Papa-Santa...  Ask them what kind of chocolate they like the most, if they've been extra good lately, and promise them evidence of my visit on Easter's Eve. Simple no?

What I didn't realize is that children don't actually expect the Easter Bunny to talk. And when it does talk, they emit a rather excruciating shrill, followed by tears and intense running for their lives. Funny from in the suit, but the parents didn't really appreciate the humour.

I did this crazy gig for 3 years. I am surprised to write that. On the third year though, something tragic happened.

The local school for challenged children decided it would be exciting for their students to see the Easter Bunny that Saturday afternoon. I knew my employer would be watching this endearing display, and I was fully prepared. I had my eggs at the ready, I promised myself not to talk to the children, and I was trying extra hard to just be mature, to take this gig seriously and make my papa proud. I now know that in situations where factors such as these exist, something is about to go very very wrong.

I got through about 2 of the kids lined up for that day. They're eyes openned wide and hugging me, and having a great time with chocolate smeared faces and hand prints on my fur. Then it happened...
The supervisor decided to lay a quadriplegic child across my lap. Given the visual challenges of the suit.... Someone may have wanted to tell the freaking bunny!?!

I couldn't see the child, nor did I have any idea that he was quadriplegic. In trying to blindly adjust him to better suit my lap, yep you guessed it, I dropped him on the floor, where he continued to roll 3 feet from me. Keeping in mind my 45 degree view holes, I couldn't find the kid. I was blindly patting the air with flat palms trying to locate him while the other kids cried and screamed. No number of eggs can forgive this scene. Then just when I thought it couldn't get worse... ( I now know, that it can always get worse), my teetering head rolled off my shoulders and yep, directly onto the kid, who was screaming and crying and had now been hit in the noggin with a giant bunny head.

So there I am exposed as not only not the Easter Bunny but a scared little doe eyed  GIRL teenager, with stringy sweaty hair pressed to her forehead and tears of both embarrassement and disbelief in her eyes. Understanding then that things could get worse and believing I would never recover, I dropped the head, I abandoned the kid, I threw chocolate eggs at whoever else was in the line up, and I ran. Never looking back until this very day.

I hope it's at least funny now.