Jeepers Peepers

I understand and appreciate the religious aspects of Easter. My heart is turned toward Christ’s atonement which includes His resurrection. However, I have always enjoyed the secular events of this holiday. No, I don’t get a day off from work. But, it’s the only holiday devoted to consuming huge amounts of candy.

I don’t remember if I ever believed in the Easter Bunny. The thought of a huge, egg laying, home invading rabbit was scary. I also wondered how this Spring time monster who victimized young children got into the house. Santa came through the chimney. Did the Bunny come through the plumbing?

Santa always avoided harm by sailing his sleigh through the crisp winter skies. The Easter Bunny apparently hopped from house to house. Not a speedy way to go. And, how traumatic for a child to see dozens of rabbits converted to road kill on Nevada highways. I never saw Santa’s smashed and flattened body on the road. Come to think of it I guess I have seen a few Santa’s who were smashed.

As a child my mom made sure we had enough hard boiled eggs to dye and then hide. The best part was finding an egg in July that had been hidden so well it was never located during the initial egg hunt. That would be one ripe egg. No one dared to crack it open.

My favorite candies were Peeps. Some think they’re tasteless lumps of goo but I’ve always been a Peep fan. If you want the full taste that satisfies your pallet Peeps need to harden. I bought a couple of trays of grass green rabbits and flaming red chicks. As soon as I came home I opened them up and they’re now aging on the shelf. I’ll give it a week before they’re ripe enough to consume. Hopefully the ant scouts won’t find them.

As the kids were growing up we always celebrated the candy and egg finding day on the Saturday prior to Easter. This separated the worldly from the spiritual. And, instead of hiding those awful eggs we hid various confections. The children would be given a basket and they would roam the living room or kitchen gathering goodies.

This morning, as Jan was propped up in bed reading the paper I quietly opened her drawer and took every pair of her socks. I was so stealthy, stealing her huge collection of stockings right under her nose. I clutched the socks in my crossed arms, holding them close to my chest. Quietly I shut the drawer, dropping a few pairs on the floor. As I bent over to retrieve the runaways all of the socks spilled to the floor. I quickly gathered them back into my arms, one eye watching to see if Jan were looking, the other eye locating the fleeing stockings. Yes, I am cross eyed and can do that.

I had learned from an old western movie, Indians, when stalking unsuspecting cowboys, didn’t walk on their tiptoes. Instead they placed their moccasined feet heel first. I used this technique to sneak out of the bedroom. Dumping the socks on the couch I made sure to take a count. There were fifteen pairs. Then I hid each pair in various places, from the obvious to the class five secret spot. I stashed them behind wall mounted paintings, in the bowl and pitcher sitting on the antique sewing machine cabinet and on the DVD shelves. I concealed the wooly foot coverings on top of the ceiling fan, behind the front window blinds and on top of the lamp. Feeling satisfied that this would be an adventure lasting hours I sat back, waiting for her to get dressed.

As I waited in anticipation I made some Saturday morning pancakes, put the dishes away from the dish washer, swept the floor. Nothing yet. I crept down the hall and peered into the bedroom. She was dressed but, as expected, bare foot. I snuck back down to the living room, snickering to myself and waited. I expected any minute to hear the drawer open and the shout of “Gregory!” vibrating through the roof of our home.

After a few minutes had passed there were still no yelps of sock despair coming from the bedroom. A second time I stole down the hall. I was startled to meet Jan coming out of the bedroom. I raised my eyebrows with a quizzical look expecting her to at least ask where her socks had disappeared to. Instead she looked back at me suspiciously and questioned, “What?”
I pointed at her bare feet, thinking that would clue her that something was missing from her wardrobe.
But, my eyes widened in horror! She had socks on!
I asked where she had gotten them. She replied she had taken them out of her drawer. I told her that was impossible.
“Why, did you take the rest?”
“Here, open your drawer again,” I begged.
Opening the drawer she saw the socks were gone.
I gave her a hug and yelled, “Happy Easter!”

Leading her to the living room I gave her a plastic bag from Target that substituted for the Easter basket. Jan went around the room, collecting her socks like she were picking daises from a field, and placing them in her improvised Easter treat carrier.
Oh yeah, there were a few she had to look hard for but I played the hot/cold game with her until I think she had found them all.

Hopefully, on some warm mid-summer day, I won’t hear, “Gregory!” as Jan discovers a pair of ripe socks that had been hidden so well they weren’t discovered on the initial sock hunt.