As I sit here adding myself to the ever popular ranks of the American morbidly obese--no thanks to the overly generous bucket of candy Sir Cottontail left on my kitchen table--I can't help but think that's there something kind of awful about the Easter holiday that we might have overlooked before.
"What could possibly be wrong with pastel colored grass, rainbow eggs, and mountains upon heaping mountains of seasonally crafted chocolates? Surely you can't mean there's anything wrong with those Reese's peanut butter eggs?"
Well, perhaps the Reese's eggs get a pass. After all, we know exactly where those come from. Some rich guy's money making monstrosity. Those other eggs, though? The little ones in the generic tinfoil wrapping that get kicked around 'til Christmas because nobody really wants to eat them? There's something secretly really awful about them, and I'm gonna let you in on that little, forgotten secret.
Think about this, if you will: You're letting your child eat small "chocolate" eggs supposedly left behind by a rabbit! Tell me, tell me dear audience. What is not wrong about that?
