Professional Peer Pressure

It was an idyllic, ocean-side Easter party with Jason 's colleagues in arms. Amid the revelry of egg-hunting, we exchanged the expected work-social flattery ("What absolutely gorgeous children you have-What angels!") and the glib corny banter, ("My wife says she works harder than I do in the office, but she doesn't know my boss." Cue the obligatory guffaws) Saving us from further fawning fraternization, the Easter rabbit made his celebrated entrance, appearing more -in fact- like the Easter cat, which is negligible, I suppose, when dealing with imaginary holiday icons.


Nevertheless, that cinematic slow-motion moment transpired when Jason's coworkers encouraged my children to pose with the Easter bunny. Normally, this is my hill to die upon- poor metaphor choice perhaps considering the holiday- however, I think my antipathy for the Easter hare eclipses my reluctant tolerance of Santa.  Yet, the pressure of Jason's uniformed comrades was too much. I caved- like a tiny Prius in a fender-bender. And so, there exists a picture that perfectly captures my children's bewilderment by the enfolding embrace of a fluffy faux rabbit.  What the picture fails to capture is me, mouthing, "Do it for daddy's job!" to my kids. Next year, I'll be stronger.