(Me & Grandpa in the infamous driveway.)
There's been a bit of chatter about what the Easter Bunny left on the floor at my house. Poop. I thought I should explain myself. The Easter Bunny poop is a family tradition and one of my fondest memories of my grandfather because it sums him up so completely. On Easter Sunday, when I was a child, we would pull up to my maternal grandparent's house in Parma, Ohio. There would be "raisins" spread out all over the driveway. As we were getting out of the car, my grandpa would run out, starting acting mad, and say "That darn bunny pooped all over the driveway again!" We were always amazed by what the bunny left and it was proof positive for us that the Easter Bunny really existed! (I mean, a pretend bunny just doesn't do that sort of thing.) You know how kids love potty humor, so that helped too. What made my grandpa think of that? I don't know. He was a plumber. He dealt with that stuff everyday. It wasn't gross. It was life. It was my grandpa. And I miss him and those moments everyday. And now, I promise, no more talk of bunny poop!