A Throat Full of Hope

Few things bring me the thrill of anticipation like a chocolate Easter bunny. What to eat first? It boggles my four year old mind.

This is only my second chocolate bunny ever, but I’ve already decided the head must be eaten last! It is the crowning glory. I covet this second chocolate Easter bunny as a prized possession. It is mine and mine alone. Maybe I’ll nibble on his tiny toes first.

Mommy catches me worshipping this chocolate idol. I still don’t have the words to express how I feel at this moment, but I instinctively know this is my moment and no one else’s. Mommy asks, “Can I have a bite?” This question alone should have had me questioning her sanity, but I am only four years old and everyone around me seems crazy.

As a good Catholic girl I am required by my God to share all goodness, or so I was told. This wasn’t the first time mommy had asked for a bite of my chocolate Easter bunny. Last year, not knowing better, I willingly handed over my first and she took a big bite out of its head! She thought this was really funny.

That horror still reverberating inside my still almost empty toddler mind, I declare, “No, you’ll eat the head!”

Mommy promised not to, not this time. Mommy begged. She begged and then she promised again that she would not eat the head. So I had to give her another chance, right? I can rest assured no adult could break a promise, right? There must be some kind of Catholic law. It was Easter Sunday after all.

As I passed the cherished chocolate, I caught the look in my mother’s eyes, a look revealing her true intentions, but it was already too late. She had her hands around my beloved bunny’s neck and in one bite the head was gone.

As the headless body was given back to me, I looked in horror as I now saw its hollowness. Convinced my mother had sucked out the very chocolate-y soul of this Easter icon, I let out a blood-curdling scream. This brought my father and my grandfather and my grandmother running into the living room.

As I left the adults to laugh at the absurdity of my predicament, laughing at my expense, I sulked off, unable to eat the chocolate carcass. I gave it to my father, then, turning my attention to the jelly beans, I wondered just what kind of flowers can these magical morsels grow?

Life can still be sweet.


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