My friend Bonny wanted to strangle me one Easter.
I was one of THOSE moms. Those obnoxious imaginative Moms that wanted childhood to last forever and I attached mythical charming elves and fairies to just about every holiday. I also had one of those obnoxiously charming children who believed every tale I wove and when I said there were leprechauns that lived in our air conditioning vent, there was no reason for him to doubt me. The only problem was, I never counted on meeting Bonny and her adorable daughter Michelle.
Michelle was a charmer when I met her, at the age of 4. Giant blue eyes, the sweetest smile and a mass of blond curly hair. You couldn't help but fall in love with her. Bonny was a fellow New Yorker and both of us were misplaced in Florida, both single Moms and both of us stretching a dollar so far that it looked like a beach towel. We were destined to be friends. We met at one of those free book store events. My son was thrilled with meeting Curious George and was peppering George with about a million questions while the rest of the 4 and 5 year olds stood frightened and stage-struck. Michelle stood in awe of TJ, amazed that anyone could be so self assured in front of a giant monkey, and the two of them were destined to be friends. From then on, we were a foursome: inseparable.
Bonny and I had many hilarious adventures with our children but the holidays were probably the most hysterical. Bonny adored Christmas and knew every holiday fair, Christmas sing-a-long and place to visit Santa and all the reindeer, even in Sunny Florida. she was the original GPS of holiday events.
I was more responsible for the crafty end of things. It was my home where the kids could glitter up paper snowmen, create sticky glue ornaments and basically paint and color to their hearts content. It was also where the imaginary holiday characters were created and discussed at great length at the craft table. Unfortunately, I often forgot to clue Bonny in.
The first was Domenick the Donkey (yes, after the song). He brought all good girls and boys new pajamas for Christmas Eve and left a hoof print on the window. Bonny, though confused by a flying donkey bringing pajamas to little children, managed to distract Michelle from this tradition saying it was only given out to those of Italian descent. Fortunately, Michelle was willing to take that into consideration.
Next came Louie the Leprechaun. He left chocolate gold coins and played tricks like hiding socks or left a small present in the morning next to the cereal bowl. Since Michelle was part of our carpool in the morning, she benefited from Louie, so again, no problem.
The trouble came with the Gold Shoe Easter Bunny, brought about by the wonderful book of the same name. This was a childhood favorite story of mine that of course I shared with my child. Now, being a rather wild boy, prone to being strong-willed, the lure of the Gold Shoe Easter Bunny was the bringing of a very coveted gold egg, given only to children who had behaved the best through the year. Now, betting on my child's desire to achieve the egg, I casually mentioned the Gold Shoe Bunny had dropped by in the past but my son had yet to past the incredibly well behaved standard of the Gold Egg (I know....this is grounds for years on Dr. Phil, but he was my first, what did I know about trauma). So began the quest for the gold egg.
The night before Easter, after an egg-austing day of Easter egg hunting, of which Bonny of course knew the latitude and longitude of every hunt within 50 miles, Bonny heard the kids discussing Easter morning. In a sweet clear voice, she heard her daughter say,
"Do you think I might get the Gold Egg TJ?"
And my son responded by saying,
"I've had a pretty tough time so I'm pretty sure I won't be getting the egg, but you've been great Michelle. I'm sure you'll get the gold egg so good luck to you. Let me know when you get it." and with that, TJ left the car and ran up our drive. Bonny looked back in horror to a dreamy-eyed Michelle who clasped her hands and said,
"Did you hear that Mom? TJ doesn't think he will get the gold egg, but I know I will. I've been so good! The Easter Bunny just HAS to bring me one." Bonny smiled the loving smile of motherhood while gripping the steering wheel tightly as if it was my neck. If she could have run the car up on my lawn at the moment, I am sure she would have.
About an hour later I was just about to get TJ in the tub when the phone rang.
"I put up with flying donkeys. I put up with leprechauns who played tricks. But do you think you MIGHT HAVE TOLD ME ABOUT A FLIPPING EASTER BUNNY WHO LEAVES GOLD EGGS??"
"Bonny??"
"Who the heck else would be calling the night BEFORE EASTER IN DIRE NEED OF A GOLD EGG THANKS TO YOU!!! NOW TELL ME WHERE I CAN GET THESE FREAKING EGGS IN THE NEXT HALF HOUR OR I WILL COME OVER TO YOUR HOUSE AND TAKE YOURS!"
There is nothing more frightening than a mother on the edge of disappointing her child. I gave her instructions to the Walmart and prayed. Hours later, the phone rang. Apparently Bonny had found the snap-together gold eggs that I had purchased, and decided to bypass them to make her own bejeweled, bedazzled, be glittered gold egg. An Easter miracle had happened! The mother who had always been afraid of glitter on the rug had turned into a regular Martha Stewart overnight!
The next day Michelle couldn't wait to tell TJ how she had been given the most wonderful gold egg. It sparkled, it shined, it dazzled. TJ was suitably impressed and since he knew he was lucky to have even gotten a gold egg at all, he was not surprised that Michelle's was the grandest of them all.
And Bonny couldn't wait to tell me the next time I dreamed up a leprechaun, a monkey who gave out birthday balloons or a talking snowman, I should keep it to myself.
Happy Easter and may you find your own special gold egg this year.
