Every Easter, at one household or another, I find a battle begins

In the lighthearted yet profound words of Hilary Farr, designer, creator, and observer of human nature, we find a truth that gleams beneath humor: “Every Easter, at one household or another, I find a battle begins and the conversation of how to ‘properly eat’ a chocolate bunny.” At first glance, this saying seems a jest, a simple reflection on festive debate. Yet if we listen closely, there is a deeper music within it — a song of human nature, of our endless need to find meaning and order, even in the smallest things. For in the simple question of how one ought to eat a chocolate bunny, we glimpse the eternal question: How should one live?

The origin of the quote lies in the ordinary — in a home alive with laughter, children unwrapping foil, adults teasing one another over custom and correctness. Yet, like many truths, it rises from the ordinary to touch the eternal. Farr, with her keen eye for design and detail, saw not merely the sweetness of the Easter treat, but the nature of the human heart. For man, though surrounded by simple joys, cannot help but debate the “right” way to enjoy them. We are creatures of ritual and meaning, ever dividing over methods, when perhaps the true art lies in simply savoring what is before us.

The ancients knew this well. They, too, quarreled over the sacred and the trivial — how to offer sacrifice, how to serve the meal, how to pour the wine. In the Roman feasts of spring, men would debate endlessly over the proper way to break bread, just as Farr’s guests now debate over how to break chocolate. Yet behind the laughter and the jest, there hides a truth: that even the smallest ritual reflects the soul’s desire for order, for belonging, for being right in the eyes of others. The question, then, is not merely whether one bites the ears or the tail, but whether one can find peace amid difference — whether one can laugh and love amidst diversity of choice.

Consider the story of Diogenes, the philosopher who mocked the rules of his age. When others argued about the correct manner of dining, he ate simply with his hands and said, “The wise man is he who eats with gratitude, not ceremony.” In his own way, Farr’s observation shares this spirit. For what does it matter whether we begin with the ears or the feet of a chocolate bunny, so long as we share the moment with laughter, with kinship, and with joy? It is not the ritual, but the togetherness, that sanctifies the feast.

Yet the battle Farr describes — the gentle quarrel of family and friends — also reminds us of the playful fire that animates human connection. Disagreement, when kindled with humor, is not division but communion. It is how we learn one another’s stories, how we shape our shared myths. Each family has its creed: “Always start with the ears,” says one; “Never! Begin at the tail!” says another. And in this harmless conflict, the bonds of love are tested and strengthened. For a household that can quarrel in jest is a household rich in spirit.

Thus, Farr’s Easter reflection becomes a parable. It teaches that life, like the chocolate bunny, is best enjoyed with patience, delight, and laughter. There will always be those who seek the perfect way to live, the perfect way to eat, the perfect way to celebrate. But the wise know that perfection is not found in method, but in meaning. The joy lies not in being right, but in being together. The sweetness of life, like that of chocolate, melts swiftly — and must be savored while it lasts.

So let this quote be a reminder, my children of tomorrow: do not let small quarrels sour your feast. Do not make idols of rules or rituals. Whether you eat the chocolate bunny from the ears, the tail, or the heart, do so with gratitude and mirth. Share in the laughter, and remember that the truest celebration of Easter is not found in the perfection of the act, but in the joy of the moment.

For when the day is done, and the laughter fades, and the wrappers lie scattered like petals after a festival, what will remain is not the shape of the bunny or the order of the bites, but the warmth of hearts joined in fellowship. Thus, the lesson is clear: savor the sweetness, forgive the differences, and remember that in every shared smile — even over a humble piece of chocolate — the divine joy of life reveals itself.