Have I mentioned that it’s been six weeks since my ridiculously attractive husbands and I have been able to do anything remotely conjugal?
I suck in a quick breath and clamp my fingers over my lips. I meanthusband, as insingular.
Oh, for Pete’s sake, thank goodness I didn’t say that out loud, or half the town would have something to talk about. Not that they’re not yapping about us already.
We just finished up with church and made a beeline for the lake, and the two of them had the fun of finding a parking spot. Not easy to do since all of Vermont showed up for this shindig.
Later, we’ll have an early dinner with the twins Ava and Olivia and their mother Haley, along with Everett’s sister Meghan and his mother Eliza. Of course, we’ll be dining with the rest of our friends and family at my mother’s B&B. There’s nothing like getting together with everyone you love and sharing a good meal.
The twins howl twice as loud as if they were protesting my inner musings.
“Well, this is going better than expected,” Everett says dryly, already reaching for a wailing Ozzy.
“Your definition ofbetterneeds serious recalibration,” Noah says, picking up Lyla Nell, who screams and wiggles like mad as if Noah is about to feed her to an oversized woodland creature who noshes on little girls with strawberry-colored pigtails.
“Maybe if he takes the head off?” Charlie suggests hopefully, and perhaps against her better judgment.
“Then it’s just Grandpa Wiley in a weird white jumpsuit,” Everett points out. “That might actually be worse.”
Carlotta studies the situation with the analytical eye of someone who’s witnessed plenty of disasters and caused them. “You know what this reminds me of? That time I dated a guy who dressed up as a cowboy for Halloween. Same level of costume-related terror, similar screaming response from the general public. The bunny, however, is significantly less likely to steal my credit cards.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “This is Wiley we’re talking about.” Heaven knows he’s not above swiping a dollar or a million of them from a woman, and that’s exactly what he did to Everett’s poor mother, once upon a time. Then came that whole faking his death thing.
Why exactly are we allowing this man anywhere near the general public, let alone parading him around like some hippity hoppity holiday hero?
Our family Easter photo session with Wiley Fox as the EasterBunny is exactly the disaster you’d expect from putting Noah’s father in a giant rabbit costume that looks like it was designed by someone with a grudge against childhood innocence.
“Okay, everyone gather around the Easter Bunny!” the photographer calls out cheerfully, oblivious to the fact that the kids have taken one look at Wiley’s costume and decided this is their personal horror movie moment.
“Come on, sweethearts,” Mom encourages, holding Lyla Nell’s hand—or more to the point, dragging her in his direction. “Say hello to the nice Easter Bunny!”
More shrieks and screams let loose, and it sounds as if an Easter Sunday massacre is taking place.
“Maybe they should say goodbye to the Easter Bunny.” Noah sighs as Ozzy and Corbin start wailing in perfect harmony with their sister.
“Maybe they’ll want to stay if we bribe them with chocolate?” Everett suggests, although he’s already reaching for the twins with the efficiency of someone who’s learned that parental damage control requires quick reflexes.
“Or we could just accept that the kids in our family have excellent survival instincts,” I point out, because honestly, a giant rabbit approaching small children is legitimately terrifying.
“Look at those kids run,” Carlotta shouts with glee. “It’s like watching a nature documentary, except instead of gazelles fleeing a lion, the predator is wearing polyester and smells like mothballs.”
“Carlotta,” Lainey warns. “They’re children, not wildlife.”
“Same difference,” Carlotta shoots back. “Both species run in packs, scream at anything and everything, both require constant feeding, and both will trample you in a stampede. Plus, both will bite you if cornered. The only difference is you can’t legally tranquilize children, just yet.”
The photographer tries to salvage the situation. “Maybe if the bunny sits down and looks less intimidating?”
Wiley attempts to crouch, which only makes him look like a giant rabbit preparing to pounce. This escalates the screaming to newlevels of terror.
“Bunny or no bunny,” Meg sighs, trying to soothe Piper whose first Easter will also go down in history as her first trauma. “I don’t think this is working.”
“You think?” Keelie asks, watching Bear attempt to climb the nearest tree to escape the bunny threat. He really is living up to his name in that respect.
“Come on, kids!” Mom calls out with grandmotherly determination. “It’s just Grandpa Wiley! He’s here to give you Easter treats! Lots and lots of chocolate! Who doesn’t like chocolate?”
Out of the blue, Lyla Nell marches right up to the Easter Bunny and punches him squarely in his giant pink nose. Nice to see she’s already a protective older sister.
“Now that’s problem-solving,” Everett says with a tick of his head.
