For Easter, our kids attended an Easter egg hunt at their cousins' house. While at the house, the Easter Bunny paid a visit. And for some reason, the Easter bunny creeped me out. Maybe it's the hollow eyes. Or the serious, almost perturbed, purse of the lips. This is a face that says, "I'll visit your house while you're sleeping, sure, but if you don't take precautions, I may maul you."
This is a bunny spawned from the psychedelic surrealism of Pink Floyd's "The Wall," or from the whacked-out world of Syd and Marty Kroft ("H.R. Pufnstuf" -- see image above).
Thankfully, my kids were charmed by the Easter Bunny rather than unsettled. And my reaction is more a reflection upon me than upon the bunny. (Although if I woke up in the middle of the night on Easter Eve, stumbled sleepily into the living room, and discovered this particular bunny standing there in the dark, I do believe I would shriek, do a cowardly little dance, and knock myself out on a corner as I sprinted wildly away from the dead-eyed hopper.)
NEXT STOP: A Day at Boondocks
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