It's a sad deal, but our eleven year old Max today announced that he now knows the Easter Bunny isn't real. Our routine in the past was that we'd all get dressed for Mass and as we were leaving I'd say I forgot something and will meet them at church. After Kim and the children leaf, I'd race around the house setting up the baskets and hiding Easter eggs.

No more.

Can the Tooth Fairy and Santa be far behind? And don't get me started on my spreading glitter all over the floors in our home and writing lyrical notes from Faireena the Tooth Fairy to Max.

Kim tells me I have to let it all go because if Max still believes in all of those wonderful icons as a teenager he'll end up on Dr. Phil. Still, a part of me is sad. Peter Pan had the right idea: cryogenically freeze kids when they are eight.