My belief in the Easter Bunny was strong. In fact I believed in the Easter Bunny for longer than I believed in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. My parents were very good at making me believe in the Easter Bunny for some reason. My father would stand at the window early Easter Sunday and whisper “Come quick! There he is!” By the time I got there the Bunny was always gone. He’s very quick to hop away and hypersensitive to movement behind glass windows, you see. One snowy Easter I even found tiny bunny prints in the snow! I knew exactly what he looked like -he carried a huge wicker basket of dyed eggs and sweet goodies on his back- and I would draw pictures of him in all his glory. When I was a bit older I dyed eggs with my mother every year. The Easter Bunny still came to hide them in the garden though. It’s magical to truly believe in mythical characters as a child.