Saturday Stories: Easters Of My Childhood

>If I hadn’t been on a blogging break, I’d have written this two weeks ago. Oh well. The point of these Saturday Stories is to record family and personal stories.
The first time I remember ever going to church was on an Easter. I was probably about 6 or 7. My mom took me. I was bored and got a lot of “those looks” from my mom for fidgeting. It wasn’t until I was 8 that we started attending church regularly.
Easter mostly meant candy. The Easter bunny brought me a basket. My dad’s mom brought me a basket. Sometimes my mom’s parents brought me another basket. It was a veritable candy marathon. (It is really no wonder that I ended up a sugar addict, is it!) I had to work to get the basket from the Bunny. He always hid it somewhere clever. I remember finding it in the dryer, in the oven, in the dishwasher, in the fireplace, you name it, it was probably a hiding place. Once I found it, the eating began. I don’t remember having any breakfast on Easter other than chocolate bunnies and black jelly beans. The rule was that I had to give the bunny’s ears to my mom. The bunny brought only high quality candy. Russell Stover was his favorite brand. Sometimes I received candy from Oliver’s, a candy store in my grandparents’ town. OOOh!, that was good stuff – especially their sponge candy.
We didn’t really do egg hunts. I was an only child, so what fun would it have been? I got a new dress every year and sometimes a hat. Some years my mom made my dress and other times it was store bought. I received a new dress every year until I left for college. That was a fun tradition.
I need to ask my parents what they remember about Easters growing up. I don’t remember ever asking them about that holiday.

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