Susan R. asks, “ First, just what makes up a healthy dose of marshmallow Peeps?!”

The answer is, of course, whatever you could manage to cram in your mouth before your mother noticed and told you, no, you could not eat all the Easter candy in one day and to stop it before you ruined your lunch =)

But this reminds me of another Easter tradition, at least the one in my house, that also appears to be disappearing. The night before Easter I would set out my Easter basket. THE Easter basket. It was pink and purple and yellow and could hold a serious dose of Peeps. And because I wasn’t above a little kissing up and because I didn’t see why Santa Claus should get all the good stuff, I also left out some carrots on a plate just in case the Easter Bunny got the munchies.

And the next morning, poof, the basket had been filled. Let the sugar rush begin.

Now maybe this was just my family, but you kept the basket. It was THE basket. You left it out year after year, not unlike a Christmas stocking. It was very specifically mine. If it had gotten lost, I would have been in a fit only a six year old can manage. If I’d had to put out a new basket, the Easter bunny might not recognize it was me. He might have skipped the peeps and the malted milk balls and left me black jelly beans instead. I HATED the black jelly beans.

But every year I see more and more and more of the pre-filled, shrink-wrapped Easter baskets. It’s the drive-through version.

Does no one set out the Easter basket anymore? The special basket. THE basket. Do parents not fill them especially for each child, carefully screening out the black jelly beans? Making sure it’s the yellow duck Peeps not the new-fangled, sub-par bunny Peeps.

And while I am, as my father noted in the comments section of the Easter dress post, pining for days gone by, there’s something else. I’m noticing as the number of pre-made Easter baskets goes up, the number of egg dying kits in the grocery store goes down.

We’re still dying eggs aren’t we? Please tell me we’re still dying eggs.

In my family, this was done at grandma’s house. Grandma was the Easter queen who was also responsible for the egg hunt. All the eggs smelled strongly of vinegar, which must’ve been used to mix up the dye. There was the little metal egg holder you used to dunk your hard boiled egg. Patience, not something every kindergartner has in great supply, was important. If you didn’t leave the egg in long enough, the color wouldn’t be very bright. And an Easter egg, if nothing else, should be bright. And inevitably so were your fingers and the ten pounds of newspaper that had been laid out to protect the table top.

Don’t we do that anymore?