My Vistit to Bunnyland

This is a little girl who absolutely would NOT, ever ever sit on Santa’s lap. There was only one man in her life and that was Dad. The Easter Bunny, however, was all right with her. She was a lady.

I guess I felt safe with her.

I was about four and a half when this picture was taken. I still have the paper frame it came in, which reads, “My Visit to Bunnyland.” I remember the dress. It was my favorite dress. It was pale pink and had little white flowers embroidered all over it. The sash and bow at the neck were black velvet. You can’t see them, but I was wearing black patent leather shoes with little white shocks that had a little lace ruffle along the top edge.

I don’t remember the actual visit, or the picture being taken. I wonder what the Easter Bunny is saying to me. I wonder what I am thinking. I’m not looking at her; I’m looking at something/someone over her left shoulder. Maybe I’m looking at Mom or at the cameraman. But I seem a wee bit awed to be in her presence. There’s something in the tilt of my head, in my eyes, that suggests to me I may have been excited, but speechless. I love how the Easter Bunny has her left “paw” gently covering my hands where they rest in my lap, while her right holds me around the waist. I love how she is looking at me, right into my eyes. She is giving me her full attention.

What greater gift can any child receive than that; the full attention of the Easter Bunny, one’s parents, one’s family, one’s God, even when we’re distracted by something off to the side.