The Washington Post had a feature on Marshmallow Peeps this Easter. They have progressed quite a bit, but when Rachel and I first discovered them years ago, they hadn't quite become the media darlings. We were just amused by the little misshapen yellow birds with a brown eye in the middle of their foreheads and another where their ear might be. Someone who was running the eye machine wasn't quite up to par.
I think Rachel decided I needed help with the candy after the "Easter Bat" incident. It's one of those fatherly mistakes that one never lives down.
She was already savvy to the whole Santa Claus myth, and we were living in a very conservative (read: funless) Christian community, so one day near Easter she came to me and asked, "Do we believe in the Easter Bunny?" Without a moment's hesitation, I replied, "No, honey, we believe in the Easter Bat." Then I proceeded to make up some tale of the bat that flies around and brings good children Easter candy. I sort of got into this thing, so that night, in addition to the regular Easter baskets for the kids, I made her a special one, with dark purple grass, dark chocolate eggs, and licorice jelly beans. The next morning, when she found her black-on-black Easter Bat basket, she was crestfallen. Even when I produced the conventional basket, she was still unhappy.
So that's how we ended up going to Ben Franklin every year to buy candy, with her doing all the choosing. We'd spend $20 or $30 every year, and we always looked for the most grotesque Peeps we could find.
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