Daddy Horror Stories: How my 2-year-old twins and I became terrified of the Mall Easter Bunny.

Daddy Horror Stories: How my 2-year-old twins and I became terrified of the Mall Easter Bunny.
Advertising

In every office in this great land of ours, winter truly ends when the office funny man proudly asks, on the hour, every hour, "What's the deal with the Easter Bunny? Bunnies don't lay chocolate eggs, ya know. Them's poops."

Daddy Horror Stories: How my 2-year-old twins and I became terrified of the Mall Easter Bunny.

The author's twins when they were young and fearless. (via Sean Sullivan)

Ah. Spring is here.

Can't wait for George R.R. Martin to finish the next Game of Thrones? We got a sneak peek: some bearded descendent of Ned Stark stands atop that giant wall and yells, "They're not chocolates! They're poops! Winter is over," while a naked lady sexes a dragon or something.

I finally looked it up. The eggs? Completely logical. Long ago in some Orthodox churches, eggs were given up for Lent. In order to preserve them for 40 days, they'd boil them and then once Lent was over, they'd decorate and eat them. Thanks, 15 seconds and Wikipedia! Same with the Easter bunny! Bunnies were a common symbol of fertility in antiquity, and spring is when everything comes back to life. Maybe not as exciting as the prospect of eating 40-day-old hard boiled eggs but at least there is some semblance of reason to it all.

But what about you, Mall Easter Bunny? What's your f**king deal? I was at the Sprint store at the mall which just happened to be right next to the Mall Easter Bunny.

I asked the guy at Sprint about them and he said, "Dude, I don't know. They show up two weeks before Easter. Nobody knows who they are or where they came from. They're here until Easter Sunday and then on Monday, they're gone."

Daddy Horror Stories: How my 2-year-old twins and I became terrified of the Mall Easter Bunny.

Time to "lay some eggs." (via Sean Sullivan)

Well that sounds totally legit and not shady at all. Honey, I'm putting the kids in their Easter best and going to the mall. Bye.

I get Mall Santas, and I celebrate those men for their commitment to the Santa lifestyle. Perhaps I'm naive but I trust Mall Santas. I can look them in their eyes. That's important. I can see who they are. Sure underneath that red suit may be the rugged, tattoo-scarred arms of a professional killer but with the white beard and blue eyes, I have no hesitations about placing my kids in the lap of somebody else's grandfather and buying their picture.

Advertising

The Mall Easter Bunny is different. That could be anybody, good or bad. There really isn't any way to know, short of subpoenaing the mall's human resources records, but where could those be? (Hint: they're in the CD section of the f.y.e.)

My twins will turn two on Easter Sunday, and boy what a difference a year makes. Last year, we stumbled upon the Mall Easter Bunny by mistake. The babies had just turned one, and my wife and I were feeling confident enough to start venturing out into the world. One Saturday morning we ended up in the mall and we saw the Mall Easter Bunny, checked to make sure neither baby had puked on their shirts and got their picture taken.

Advertising

It was remarkably smooth. No one cried. They actually smiled. I bought my mom a copy of the picture, I was so happy with the way it came out.

Daddy Horror Stories: How my 2-year-old twins and I became terrified of the Mall Easter Bunny.

The Easter Bunny's throne awaits. (via Sean Sullivan)

This year, however, they are almost two, and we have gone twice and my kids want no part of it. My son started going, "No, no, no, no, no, no" and begging me to pick him up. My daughter just stared. She squinted her eyes and just stared at the Mall Easter Bunny like he had double crossed her in a bank heist years ago. I'm generally afraid of my daughter most of the time but this time I was glad to be on her side. I said, "Do you want to go say hi?" and she just walked away. I eventually found her. I'm a great dad.

Advertising

As much as it pains me to say, I think we we need the Mall Easter Bunny as a fear hurdle. As we were walking away from the Easter Bunny, consoling our kids, I saw a boy who was probably 5 or 6 running past us, yelling, "He's here! Mom, he's here!" I didn't turn to see where he was going but I knew that kid had conquered the Easter Bunny terror milestone and was being rewarded with a moment of pure innocence. I smiled as I imagined, in a couple of years, my daughter running past some other crying baby, yelling, "He's here! Dad, he's here!" before dropkicking the Easter Bunny in the face and getting her revenge.

Advertising