“Daddy,” he said, serious now. “The bunny says I’m kind. Am I kind?”
“The bunny came,” Theo repeated, more urgently this time. He held up the Peep like a holy relic. proud father v0 13 0 easter westy
And that, I think, is what a proud father really is: “Daddy,” he said, serious now
He nodded again. Then he ran off to the slide, and I stood there, hands in pockets, watching him climb. And I felt it—full, undeniable, embarrassing in its intensity: . He held up the Peep like a holy relic
Easter, I’ve learned, is a particularly tricky build. Christmas has the big budget—trees, lights, a clear mythology. Easter is weirder. It’s more intimate. A rabbit breaks into your house and leaves boiled, dyed chicken embryos in a woven plastic basket. And in West Yorkshire, where the weather can’t decide between resurrection and another good frost, Easter feels like a metaphor struggling to happen.