Every year my parents used to put a chocolate bunny under the cushions of the couch and on Easter morning there would be one there for each of the kids. I know it’s a religious holiday, but as a kid, it’s the chocolate you remember.
At some point we started aging out; one less bunny, two less bunnies.
I’m the youngest in my family.
The year I aged out, no one told me. On Easter morning I woke up and headed straight for the couch.
Adding insult to injury, my parents joked that they had hidden it, so I went bunny hunting.
When they realized I hadn’t caught on, they broke the news that there was no chocolate.
What followed was the tantrum to beat all tantrums, and my dad scouring the neighbourhood to buy a chocolate bunny.
I will never forgive them.