The Easter Bunny and my five-year-old brought magic back into my life.

when I needed it the most

My Sons Superman

It was a little over a year after my divorce, which was contentious, to say the least. I had tried hard never to let any of the chaos and drama unfolding in my life seep into the hearts and minds of my children. To that end, I never, ever wanted them to be angry with or do anything to paint a negative picture of their dad, no matter how angry I might have been with him.

To my son, his Dad was a superhero, and I was happy for him to hold onto that belief. It gave him comfort in these changing times in our life.

Easter was fast approaching, and in our house, every holiday was something we celebrated as big as we could. We literally had an Easter Bunny costume, and their Dad would dress up and visit with Easter baskets filled to the brim with candy and small toys. Those were the happier times now left behind in a life that no longer existed.

Life was hard and stressful. I was broken, broke, and depressed. By day, when my kids could see and hear me, I was the epitome of the happy, playful Mom they loved, and at night, I would cry and rage in fear about how I would support my kids and keep their lives stable. I was not in any state to celebrate. My kids, however, had no idea and were excited to see what would come on Easter. Since the Easter Bunny wouldn’t be visiting our house in person that year, I decided to take them to a local outdoor mall to meet him at “his house.”  

I had been hyping up the visit all week, and each time I talked about it with my son, he would tell me that the Easter Bunny would bring him a Superman doll. Not just any Super Man doll, this doll would have a squishy/soft body so he could hug it tight and a realistic face so he could talk to it when he missed his dad.

At first, I thought this would be easy to get. I mean, it’s a Superman doll, a popular character; there are probably millions of these things.

Oddly, there was nary a Superman doll in sight. On Ebay even! It was weird. Like, how can the world suddenly be void of one of the most popular pieces of merchandising known to man (and little boys)?!

I began to try to lessen the blow my son would surely experience when, on Easter morning, there was no Superman doll in his basket. And every time I would even utter a word about the possibility that maybe the Easter Bunny had other ideas, my son would look me in the eye, and with the confidence and conviction of someone who truly believed, he would tell me, “The Easter Bunny is going to come through for him.”

So, the Saturday before Easter arrived, I had one more chance to procure Superman. In the mall, there was a toy store that featured vintage and hard-to-find toys and games. I held out hope that maybe, just maybe, Superman might be hiding between the vintage Pokémon cards and the Atari games.

I convinced my kids to check out this store that didn’t have anything they’d heard of. “It's toys from when I was a kid!” They looked at me in disbelief, as if I was ever a kid, but ventured in anyway.  I quickly circled the store, shelves filled to the brim with faded boxes containing erector sets and comics I hadn’t seen, well… since I was a kid. But alas, no Superman. I snuck up to the front and quietly asked the clerk if a Superman doll might be hidden away in the back. He explained that he hadn’t seen a Superman doll in years, but had a figurine. My eyes widened; maybe this would suffice. Excitedly, I showed my son, who barely glanced, and said matter-of-factly, “Nope, that’s not it. The Easter Bunny will have it.”

I just about crumbled to the floor. It has been such a rough time for them. The uncertainty, feelings of abandonment, the stress on them was unbearable to watch; even as I tried to shield them from it all, I knew they felt it, and I just wanted to give him one thing that would keep the hope, innocence, and the magic alive in his heart.

This mall had a trolly, and we rode it to the area where we had our appointment with Mr. Easter Bunny. His house was in the center of a large grassy area set aside for public events. Encircling the grass were little kiosks selling their wares. As we rode, my kids laughing and bouncing about in anticipation of the main event, their meeting up with their old friend, I hid my disappointment, holding back tears in the knowing that on this day, my son would stop believing, the divorce had already taken so much from him. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough, looking far enough, just not being enough for them.

The trolly came to a stop and my kids were off and running even before my foot hit the ground. Right next to the Easter Bunny’s house sat a small Kiosk that looked to be part of the setup. As I began to make my way over to the check-in, I heard my son screaming loudly, “MOM!!! MOM!!! MOM!!!” I couldn’t tell if this was screams of joy or if he had fallen and hurt himself. I start to panic and run towards the sound of his voice; I find him standing next to this kiosk holding….

Yep… you guessed it.

A Superman doll with a squishy/soft body for hugging and a plastic face for talking, precisely as he had described it to me over and over again these past few weeks. “See, Mom, I told you the Easter Bunny would come through.” He stated assuredly, as if he and the Easter Bunny had been in cahoots the whole time, and I was the one who needed to be reminded of the magic held within the heart of someone who truly believed that dreams do come true.

I looked at the clerk manning the kiosk and asked him how much the doll was. He looked at me and shrugged, “I don’t know, we’ve never sold anything like that before. It just arrived this morning, and we only received one.”

Of course.

I gave him ten dollars and followed my son into the Bunny house. It turns out that the kiosk was separate from the Bunny event, and it is usually not even in that area. It had been relocated the day before due to construction work in another mall area.

A miracle indeed.