Second Christmas is coming!

The other day I went to the mall because I was in desperate need of a new shirt for a dinner event. And I mean desperate. Most of my wardrobe is at least three years old -- the pants I decided to wear were actually approaching first-grader status. They grow up so fast, you know?

Anyway, as I was traipsing from one store to the other in an unsuccessful search for something that said both spring! and I'm still young and cool!, I found myself standing in front of JCPenney staring at an alarmingly fake garden scene. It featured emerald green Astroturf for grass (a cruel joke -- parts of our lawn are still covered in an inch of mushy snow), a profusion of ruffly pastel flowers the size of my head, and a park bench where an otherwise sane adult would pose for pictures while wearing a freakishly larger-than-life bunny suit and clutching your children. Apparently, parents will pay money for this to happen, and commemorate the surreal experience with a photo.

That's when it dawned on me... When I wasn't looking, Easter became Second Christmas.

It used to be that Easter was a Christian holiday that involved picking out a snazzy new dress or delightfully tiny suit, swiping handfuls of jelly beans and chocolate eggs, finding plastic Easter grass stuck to the dog, chewing the ears off of chocolate bunnies (but don't eat the eyes, those taste like candied roly-poly bugs that have been baking in the sun), and piling in the car to go to church for the second time in a year. It was a sacred holiday where kids pondered how bunnies and eggs were connected and how many objects in the house would absorb brightly colored Paas egg dye. Virtually everything is the answer to that, by the way. You've been warned.

Somewhere along the way it became a highly commercialized Sunday where parents are encouraged to invest untold dollars and hours, and out-craft each other with spring decorations. It's some weird contest where my garland of plastic eggs and petrified marshmallow Peeps is longer and more pastel than yours, plus I bought a freakin' kiddie pool and filled it with toys and stretched half a hula-hoop across the top and called it the world's coolest Easter basket, so I WIN.

So...this is a thing now.

If you're into that sort of thing, here are some fun ideas for you:

A favorite of Christmastime is taking your child to sit uncomfortably on Santa's lap and cry at this stranger who smells like beef and cheese. At Second Christmas, you can take your child to sit next to the Easter Bunny so she can whisper to him what she wants in her Easter kiddie pool. While you're there, you can wistfully murmur about how much you want to be able to doff your coat before May. Maybe the bunny can pull some strings with Mother Nature. It never hurts to try.

Bunny Bait. It's like crack for Easter bunnies.

Besides, you know how to bribe that bunny. Forget reindeer food and milk and cookies, the real money is in Bunny Bait. This delicious and tempting mix of popcorn or Chex, M&M's, melted white chocolate, and pretzels is irresistible to Easter bunnies everywhere. You give him a little sumthin'-sumthin' and he'll sweeten your basket of eggs, ifyouknowwhatImean. Pay no attention that despite what you've seen on the Cadbury commercials, bunnies don't actually lay eggs, chocolate or otherwise. And they don't magically bring spring with them, much to my dismay. It turns out bunnies actually spend this time of year naked and cold (curiously not wearing a vest and polka-dot tie), digging under snow for hidden berries or gnawing bark off of trees in order to survive. Oh, and they eat their own poop. True story.

Easter Nests. What?

Speaking of delicious treats, at Christmas you get to decorate under-baked sugar cookies (and the counter, and the floor) with way too many sprinkles. For Second Christmas you feel strangely compelled to make a "nest" of chocolate-covered chow mein noodles and delicately lay three pastel M&M's inside. The oblong ones add a nice touch of authenticity, because if given a choice chickens and/or bunnies always prefer to lay their eggs on a salty-sweet confection.

Peeps Houses. For when there's
no room at the inn.

If a nest of candy isn't readily available, you can make a Peep House for Second Christmas. Similar but superior in every way to a gingerbread house, the Peep House is a cozy coop constructed of graham crackersstuck together with frosting. It's the perfect setting for your marshmallow chicken to give birth to the next Savior while three marshmallow bunny Wise Men look on in wonder. It's quite magical.

And remember that Christmas when it almost came to fisticuffs over that Tickle Me Elmo? You clearly saw it first. It's yours, dammit, let go. Well, lucky for you, you get to relive that excitement at Second Christmas when you take your child to a local Easter egg hunt. Witness hundreds of kids hopped up on sugar stealing rainbow ostrich eggs from each other while parents get upset that that other kid is hogging all of the eggs and not letting anyone else have any. He's too old to be here anyway. Plus, his mom is clearly tag-teaming and grabbing some on the sly. Some people just ain't right.

While we're on the topic of presents, if your child didn't get enough at Christmas, then Second Christmas is your chance to make up for it. Toys R Us research shows the best way to raise children is to shower them with new toys every few months. Never mind that you're sort of robbing them of the opportunity to be inventive and creative. The opportunity to be bored, which is actually good for them because it encourages their little minds to grow.

Me, I'm a horrible mom -- you know what my kid loves playing with? A handful of coins in an old plastic coffee jar. It cost exactly 98 cents (if you include the Canadian penny that somehow snuck in there) and was brought not by a bunny but by Lincoln, Jefferson, Roosevelt, Washington, and some woman called Elizabeth II who is fond of maple leaves. Maybe I should let her in on the fluffy deliciousness of Peeps.