Hi Beanie Boo Fan Club! This is Carrots. I’m a white bunny. Wishful asked me to write a blog for this website. Here’s my first post. I hope you like it. 🙂
I am 9 years old, and I live on Easter Island. Here’s a picture of me and my mom.
We’re posing in front of the famous Moai statues (pronounced MO-EYE). These statues are more than 500 years old. They weren’t built by bunnies, but they inspire us to dream big.
My mom is part of a really important and famous bunny family. You may have heard of her grandfather (my great grandfather): the Easter Bunny!
Everyone in our family helps to get things ready for Easter. My mother is the head chocolate scupltor in the workshop. Ever found a chocolate bunny or egg in your easter basket? There’s a good chance that my mom sculpted it.
My dad works in jelly bean production. My aunt runs the world’s largest chicken coup – minding chickens and collecting eggs for hunts all over the world, and then there’s my uncle. He’s head of basket weaving. Easter is a team effort and we all work together to get everything ready for the big day: easter.
What’s my job, you may ask? I’m still a kid, but I do help out. I receive the chocolate shipments from all over the world and make sure they are stored properly at my mom’s workshop – big chunks of chocolate ready to be carved. It’s an important job!
Today we’re having a big meeting to get organized for Easter. I’m excited because this year my Mom promised to start training me as a chocolate sculptor. I’m going to be a world famous artist. I can’t wait! The meeting was held near the Moai.
“Carrots,” I heard my name but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Carrots, over here,” I turned around but I still couldn’t find the the source of this familiar voice.
“Look at me, I’m a bunny,” the voice said. I looked up and one of the statues had two springy bunny ears coming from behind.
“Hopson,” I said “Get down from there.” It was my friend Hopson. We’re in the same class at school together. Hopson’s dad is also a sculptor. He works with my mom.
“Carrots, why do you always have to be so serious? Come on, let’s go have some fun.” he said.
“Hopson, I’m waiting for the meeting. I’m going to be learning chocolate sculpting this year.” I said, determined not to get distracted by my mischievous friend.
“Why do you want to do that, Carrots? Sculpting bunnies and eggs – that’s BORING. I’m going to be a sculptor too, but my sculptures are going to be AMAZING.”
Hopson could go on and on about his dreams, but it was time for the meeting to start. All the bunnies gathered around my great grandfather and got their assignments. Mine was the same as usual with one change: “Carrots, this year you will be in charge of chocolate storage, as usual, and you will be an apprentice in the sculpting workshop.” Yeah! I couldn’t wait to make my first creation. I’d probably be starting on eggs. Mother said eggs are the easiest, and then you work your way up to more complicated work like making chicks and rabbits.
One of the best parts about being a sculptor is that whatever shavings land on the floor while doing your work – you get to eat them!
This was going to be the BEST EASTER SEASON EVER.
Just as the meeting ended, my mom hopped over to me.
“Carrots! I’m so proud that we’ll be working together this year in the workshop. I’m going to teach you a lot.” Mom wrapped her long, soft warm ears around me. “Let’s get started tonight,” she said.
So we hopped over to the workshop. “Get yourself a small block of chocolate to start with,” mom said as we went over to grab some chiseling tools. I opened the door to the chocolate storage – and to my amazement – the chocolate was gone. All of it.
“Uh, Mom.” I said. “We have a problem.”
“What is it, Carrots?”
“The chocolate. It’s gone.”
“What do you mean it’s gone,” she said, hopping over to the storage room. Her eyes opened wide, taking in the completely empty storage room. The shock was too much for her. She fainted.
With no chocolate to work with, it seems this year there will be no chocolate eggs, no chocolate bunnies, no chocolate anything.
And as the bunny in charge of minding the chocolate, I’m not sure that I’ll be around much longer once my great grandfather hears about this.