a crocheted bunny

My second oldest brother took it upon himself to give all of his younger siblings nicknames that ended up following most of us into adulthood. I, myself, am the family's Baby Rabbit. It can be, and most often is, shortened. Rabbit, Rab and even Rabbi. That's me! As you can maybe imagine, rabbits have always had a special place in my heart, even though I didn't ever really like the part of being "set free". That involved my brother grabbing me and shouting "BE FREE, RABBIT!" while he carried me to the porch and proceeded to lock me out of the house. How many ten-year-olds do you know who can break into their own home? I knew.

For the recent sweater set I made, I also crocheted a little rabbit to go along for the ride. The colors just seemed to scream "Baby Rabbit" to me. And so a rabbit I made and sent as a surprise to the friend who ordered the set.

My mom likes to tell the story of a very young Marcia who approached her with a long face shortly before Easter and with tears in her eyes held her pony-tails straight up above her head and asked, "How can I be the Easter Bunny if I can't get my ears to stay up?"