Archive for March, 2008

Bunny Bowl


On a completely different note, here‘s a festive toy to play with.
After all, boys and girls never grow up, its only their toys that do.



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Easter has come and gone.

And all i have to show for it are the chocolate bunnies and kinder eggs that I’ve yet to gobble down. Ask me about easter and the only image that springs to mind is that of a little girl neatly wrapping up the brightly colored tin/aluminium foils which previously accompanied her chocolate pieces.

Easter has always been a day of mixed feelings for me. Joy for the resurrection and sorrow for the pain that was lashed out the previous Friday. Eating easter eggs really reinforces that. As a child, I hung out with my cousins a lot because they stayed with me. Being an only child, they naturally became my constant companions. Like all children, we fought and argued, sometimes even biting each other. But again, like all children, we hugged, stood up for each other against the adults, and explored the wide wide world together.

Every easter, my uncle’s relatives would send huge (or I might have been smaller at that time so everything looked gig-normous) easter rabbits and eggs all the way from New Zealand. These chocolate bunnies were hollow on the inside, and there were loads of goodies to be found when we broke them apart. I remember breaking off smaller nibbles from the huge chunks, and in my memory, those creamy pieces will always taste better than Godiva’s.

So the years passed one after another, and each year, we would gobble down our huge communal rabbit, and then try to unwrap the foils of our individual eggs/bunnies as gingerly as possible. It was an old game, but we wanted to trick each other into thinking that our individual stashes weren’t eaten yet, and the glutton would steal and then open the wrapper eagerly, only to find a wad of molded tissue paper, sometimes with the words “gotcha”.

The year I turned ten, my uncle was set to return to New Zealand, and my cousins were going to leave Singapore for good. I didn’t really understand the gravity of the situation at that time, but everything soon became painfully clear the next Easter. Whilst I still received the random chocolate egg, there was always an empty space where the huge bunny stood. Still, I would diligently open each tin foil with as much precision as possible, fold it into half, and leave it in a book. I thought that this would give me a bigger stash to trick them with the following year.

I told myself the same thing every year, and spent each Easter unfoiling and folding each wrapper as nicely as I could. I remember feeling slightly lonely, but I would sink my teeth into the chocolate and enjoy the happy flavors swirling about my mouth. But after that, all I had to show for it were those wrappers, bright and colorful, but now devoid of the happy brown insides.

So in many ways, Easter was always a happy time for me. But it also taught me to be thankful of what I had previously enjoyed, taken for granted, and missed only when it ceased to be.

All in all, I now know that it isn’t the yummy chocolate, nor the brightly colored foil, that makes Easter worth celebrating.

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