It’s always a bit of a jolt when I realize that my daughter doesn’t share the same likes/dislikes that I do. I’m around her all of her waking hours- I take her to places I know she will enjoy, I hang out with folks I know she’ll enjoy and be comfortable with. Thus, I think I’m a pretty good judge of what she will or will not like- especially since I’m kind of helping to sculpt that.
I don’t recall ever really liking masked characters-- you know, like when you go to Disney World and Goofy keeps coming around when you’re trying to eat your french toast and won’t take the hint that you’d really rather not shake his hand. That, actually, you wonder what kind of dark secret the person behind the mask has that they choose to carry on in such a manner while wearing a disguise. No… I don’t like those characters at all. I like to be able to look you in the eye when I deal with you- not the soulless eyes of an oversized character head with a singular, frozen expression on its face.
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Given the background of my distrust of masked characters I was a little hesitant when her grandmother mentioned a chance for my daughter to meet the Easter Bunny during our recent Easter visit to their house. I don’t like masked characters, so it naturally must follow that my daughter won’t like them either. I mean we’re talking about a HUGE FREAKING rabbit here at best and more likely some kind of WEIRDO in a HUGE FREAKING rabbit suit. What in the world would my daughter want to see something like that for? I think Easter Bunny and I immediately picture something like Frank from Donnie Darko:
But still, you have to humor the grandparents AND let your kids discover their likes/dislikes for themselves, so a trip was planned for my daughter to meet the secular icon of Easter- oversized cotton tail and all. Deep down, I knew this was going to be a short trip.
Reports from the scene are that my daughter took off like a rocket upon seeing the Easter Bunny. But instead of running away as I would have imagined, she ran TOWARDS the 130 lb rabbit, never looking back. (Granted, this Easter Bunny didn't look at all like Frank)
It’s sweet to see that I’ve not yet jaded my daughter’s innocent trust of oversized rodents with my own skepticism of the person inside the suit. I’m sure there’s a much greater lesson to be learned here, but I’m too busy trying to find plot holes and character flaws in the Cinderella story to pursue them just now.