Easter parade

Jack had an encounter with his first bigger-than-life fake furry mascot this afternoon.

In an annual rite of passage, I took him to see the Easter Bunny.

I'm not really sure why we take kids to see a rabbit. Santa, sure. He's a jolly old man. He talks. He wears velvet boots and a matching belt. He brings you TOYS. I mean come on, it's a no-brainer.

You sit on his lap, you make your request, you hop off and wait a few weeks to see what shows up under the tree.

But the Easter Bunny is a tricky one. He can't talk. He is furry in a matted-down, "smells like a wet dog" sort of way. You don't ask him for anything. It's odd.

Why don't we get photos with a Turkey? Or the Tooth Fairy? What about Uncle Sam? Perhaps a tree, for Arbor Day?

There were several 2-year-olds warily eyeing the rabbit from afar while their moms encouraged them to try to go sit on his lap, just for one picture, but they were having none of that.

I was not about to raise a scaredy-cat, so I marched Jack up there and plopped him down on the bunny's lap. The nice bunny knew how to support his head and the photographer captured the moment for us.

For the low low price of $11. ELEVEN DOLLARS FOR A PICTURE WITH A PHOTOSHOPPED EGG BORDER. I was also granted permission to use my own camera, since I forked over a month's pay for their copy.

At least he was not crying and we got a decent shot of his face. Because that's an awful lot of money for the pissy face.

There was a grandmother behind me who convinced her granddaughter to go sit with the bunny and then tried to take her own picture, but the Bunny Nazi swooped in and brushed her aside, saying that they had a "no camera" policy. The grandmother had spied me clicking away, but was told it's because I had paid for a copy.

She huffed off. It's a good thing too -- her kid was nowhere near as cute as Jack.

So without further ado, I present to you, The Bunny Shot.