Before finding out that my sister had sorted the M&Ms, I decided to confirm my request with The Easter Bunny. Just to make sure he didn’t forget me—and to see if I could contact him myself. While my mom was downstairs, I snuck into her room and pulled out The Easter Bunny card from the E section of her Rolodex.
I dialed the number. I don’t remember if a woman or a man named Larry answered. I do remember that person not introducing him or herself as The Easter Bunny or his Wife, though.
This was just an ordinary guy. An ordinary guy from my mom’s work, it turned out later, who gave out his number so his co-worker’s kids could talk to The Easter Bunny on the phone and have some 20th century magic in their lives.
But I knew it already anyway. Because in the bowl of M&Ms on our dining room table during that Holy Week there were no blue ones. Pink ones, green ones, yellow ones, yes—but no blue ones. Maybe that’s why I made the call. Just to be really sure.