Have I told you guys the story of the Creepy Easter Bunny? No? Well, gather around, readers…
About a year ago, I was walking around the mall with my screaming, sleep-refusing baby, in an attempt to have an outing. We would literally hit the mall at least once a week, and walk the aisles in desperate exhaustion and loneliness. (This was before I had any friends in the area.)
I saw a sign for pictures with the Easter bunny.
A photo op for my first child? I’m there! And- joy of joys!- Gymboree was selling bunny hats!!
The sign said that the Bunny was “eating carrots” and would be back soon.
So I waited.
And then, I spotted the Easter Bunny walking down the mall toward me.
Well, kind of.
I saw a teenage boy dressed from the neck down in a bunny outfit and carrying the head of the Easter bunny.
The head of the creepiest Easter bunny that I have ever seen.
But, I had been waiting for some time, and my baby was miraculously not crying, so we decided to stick to our guns.
He waved to his friends, made some (I’m assuming) crass joke that made them all laugh, and donned the head of our beloved Easter icon.
Which begs the question, what teenage boy chooses to dress up like the Easter Bunny?
Oh well, we plowed ahead.
I walked up to him, and plopped my sweet baby on his skinny little creepy-bunny leg.
Smoky, skinny little creepy-bunny leg.
Apparently, he had been smoking carrots.
As I was leaning over to adjust Joseph, I noticed that my engorged milk-jugs were hanging REALLY far out of my shirt.
Like, REALLY REALLY FAR.
I would say more about how they were hanging out so far that some things were almost showing, but I don’t want to embarrass anyone… and you get the idea.
And, suddenly, I got the feeling that someone was staring at them.
You know, that skin-prickling, spine-tingling feeling?
So, I quickly covered my cleavage with my hand,
and then I looked up to see who the culprit was that was staring down my shirt…
I couldn’t see a thing inside that mask.
That creepy plastic face just smiled at me, as I stood frozen,
awkwardly bent over
with my hand (uselessly) over my cleavage.
We just stood there staring.
And we stood there.
And we stood there.
hours minutes seconds. If he hadn’t been looking at my chest before, he certainly was by now!
Finally, I slowly stood up and backed away.
We took the picture,
and my little bunny and I went home.
We are skipping picture time with the Bunny this year.