Is the Easter Bunny too creepy for Easter?

I thought that Santa was bad when it comes to scaring my daughter, but the Easter Bunny is worse--much worse.  I have to admit I’ve never been terribly fond of the Easter Bunny who waits at the mall to be photographed with children.  Maybe it’s the crooked ears or the buck teeth, but there’s something about mall Easter Bunny that creeps me out on a primal level.  For my daughter, however, it goes much deeper.  It’s sheer terror.   An unfamiliar and imposing figure covered in fur is enough to freak out a two-year-old and turn her world upside down.

Early onset: It's starting to dawn on Leilani 
that the Easter Bunny is present at our local egg hunt

Our friendly neighborhood Easter Bunny is hulking, 
but is one of the less creepy "wascally wabbits" you can find

I first discovered this colossal bunny phobia last week when I took Leilani to a spring play date at a local dance studio.  The children were already in the studio dancing with the Easter Bunny when we arrived.  Leilani took one look at the Easter Bunny, then ran as fast as her tiny legs could carry her to the front door, screaming “I want to go home!” with tears streaming down her face.  I felt terrible.  I had intended to give my daughter a fun early Easter celebration.  Instead, I inadvertently brought her face-to-face with her worst nightmare.  Her phobia of giant costumed characters seems to be getting worse, and the prospect of Disneyland seems like something we may have to put off until she’s eighteen.

 The bunny in other forms is just fine, 

especially small and stuffed or chocolate

I think my own fear of the mall Easter Bunny harkens back to the 1980 classic horror film The Shining.  There is one scene at the climax when Shelley Duvall’s character is racing through the mansion, and she comes across one of the most spine-chilling and unsettling images in the entire movie: two party goers are together in a hotel room, and one of them is in a furry brown costume and animal mask.  The party goer is probably meant to be a bear--the mask has fangs and a snout--but the ears are just long enough to push it into rabbit territory.  The party goers stare straight at the viewer, and as the soundtrack becomes more frenzied--syncopated percussion punctuated with loud clanging on metal--I defy anyone not to feel the hairs rising on the back of their necks.