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SCENE: I’m driving in the car with my 5-year-old daughter in the back seat. She’s rambling on, as usual, and I get the requisite holiday question.

Macie: “Mom, is the Easter Bunny real?”

Me: “As far as I know he is.”

Macie: “How do you know it’s a boy? I think it’s a girl.”

Me: “I’ve just always thought it was a boy.”

Macie: “How does he pick up the eggs? He doesn’t have any hands.”

Me: (Sigh) “I’ve never really been sure about that either, Macie.”

Macie: “I think he just puts the eggs in the basket and runs around shaking them out on the ground so the humans can pick them up.”

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