Our Easter Bunny Hides Chocolate Covered Matza

It started, like many great parenting decisions, late at night, halfway through a bottle of wine, with two exhausted adults staring at a bag of chocolate chips and an open box of matza.

“We forgot Easter eggs,” one of them said.
“We still have matza,” said the other.
There was a pause.
Then: “Let’s cover it in chocolate and pretend it’s on purpose.”

And thus, a new family tradition was born.

The next In this house, holidays come in pairs. One parent grew up with matza ball soup and Dayenu, the other with ham dinners and plastic eggs full of sugar. Neither was ready to give up their childhood rituals, so they didn’t—they just stacked them on top of each other like a theological lasagna.

morning, the kids woke up to find pieces of chocolate-covered matza hidden behind couch cushions, inside the bookshelf, and one precariously balanced on top of a toy menorah still hanging around from Hanukkah. They blinked. They processed. Then they screamed with joy and ran off to hunt, arguing loudly over whether the matza was more “Passover-y” or “bunny-ish.”

To everyone’s surprise, it worked. The kids didn’t ask why the Easter Bunny had switched from eggs to unleavened bread. They just wanted more. One even whispered, “I think he’s Jewish now,” like it was a secret club.
‍

‍
Later, at the holiday table, while debating whether Peeps count as chametz, it was decided: this would happen every year. Because nothing says "mixed family harmony" like a kid finding Moses and the Bunny both hiding treats in the same living room.

It wasn’t traditional. But it was sweet, crunchy, a little confusing—and somehow, just right.