A Christmas Memory:




One year, my father took the three of us 
kids along with him when he did part of 
the Christmas shopping, and somehow my 
mother found out about it. I must have 
been about 8 or 9 at the time, and my 
sister, the next oldest, would have been 
about 6 or 7, so we understood that we 
weren't to tell Mama anything when she 
came round to pump us for information.



It was our baby brother who cracked. He 
was just about to turn 5 – his birthday is 
four days before Christmas  –  and so it 
wasn't that hard for Mama to get him to 
talk. He told her that Daddy was giving her 
a "bunny box."


Now, my mother has always been a fairly 
intelligent person, but – like you, I suspect – 
she had absolutely no idea what a "bunny
box" could be to a 4-year-old. What's 
more, she never did figure it out, no matter 
how hard she tried.

It was only when the gifts were opened on 
Christmas morning that all was revealed: 
one of the gifts Daddy had bought for 
Mama was a new toaster, because the old 
one was on its last legs, and it irritated her 
when the toaster wouldn't work.


What in the world did a toaster have to do 
with a "bunny box?" Well, you see, this was
long before the days when whole-grain, 
high-fiber breads came into vogue, and like 
most young couples with several small 
children, my parents would economize 
wherever they could. And so we ended up 
eating a lot of sandwiches made on 
Bunny Bread, which is what my brother 
remembered when questioned by our mother.

In other words, my baby brother spilled the
beans, but it didn't help Mama one bit,
because she didn't know what to do with
the answer.