I am Canadian! There are just some things American that I can't wrap my head around. If you know me, I'm sure you have heard the occasional "eh" exclaimed and you might have questioned the way I pronounce about, boat and tour. One thing I'm certain you don't know about me is how I detest those plastic eggs your nation is in love with. I just don't get it!
The giant bunny I am in love with! I don't question it, he is just a friendly fuzzy guy who poops out chocolate... no questions asked. For some reason the jolly man who breaks into your house and leaves presents, I have a problem with. The fact that he is judging whether you are naughty or nice might have something to do with it. I couldn't bear myself to talk about this fictitious man with my son, but the bunny... no problem.
So here is my problem with the American plastic egg. I believe if the giant bunny is pooping out chocolate, it should be proper bunny poop sized. When ever have any of you had to break open an plastic object out of your lower end to release what needs to be deposited in the can? Exactly!
Last year when my son was happily finding bunny pooped sized treats in our house he exclaimed "that bunny sure is messy, he drop these things EVERYWHERE!" I just loved it and felt that my job as a lying parent was complete. This year Tristan was so enamored with the giant bunny that he wanted to hunt it down in the back forest and bring it back to me so that I could snuggle him. Maybe I didn't grow up with the plastic eggs and outdoor easter hunts because it is often still snowing in Canada, and we were donning our toques and tobogganing down the hill. Whatever the reason, I just can't stuff those plastic eggs and pretend it is all okay with me.