There. I'm done. To my eye, these look festive. To the retail world, I'm realizing, my Easter baskets look positively anemic. Why? They don't look like Santa visited us anew.
Starbucks, this morning
Barrista (while making my coffee drink): Did you have a good St. Patrick's Day?
Me: Um, it was fine.
Barrista: Did you go out anywhere?
Me: Oh, no. I stayed in. I have to get up early to get the children off to school.
Barrista: Oh! What'd you give them?
Me: What do you mean?
Barrista: For St. Patrick's Day!
I don't know when this happened, this "Every holiday is a major gift-giving occasion!" thing, but happen it did. Don't believe me? Scoot on into the center aisles at CVS or Walgreens a week before almost any holiday. Check out the Hallmark stores, with their holiday-themed Webkinz. Try to get through the checkout aisle at Toys R US with a child in tow, and watch the child's eyes as he or she spots the holiday-themed Playmobil toy suggestions.
I have no doubt that soon enough Mother's Day will become another date for me to shower my children with presents, à la Christmas come again. Mind you, I won't. I didn't give Halloween gifts, I didn't give Valentine's Day gifts, I sure as heck didn't give St. Patrick's Day gifts, and I'm not about to turn Easter into Happy, Happy Toy Day either.
Easter in this house means Easter baskets, ones small enough for the children to actually carry without tipping over. Inside, the children will find some small items of candy, one chocolate bunny (hollow, so they have something to gripe about when they're adults looking back), and exactly one (1) small, small holiday trinket. (This year they're getting hopping bunnies; last year they got chirping chicks.)
And so I'm done. The baskets are as full as they're going to get. Happy Easter. Bah, humbug.