Alright, so my family has a peculiar tradition. None of them will admit involvement outright, so I won't be one to divulge secrets, but I can tell you this: Easter is an all-out sneakfest among the Lockwoods.

I have no memories from before the yearly activity of trespassing and planting Easter decorations on relatives' property, or "bunnying" began, and until middle school I thought it every family did it. I was wrong. Every year, my mom's side of the family awakes with a feeling I now realize most people don't have on Easter morning: suspicion.

One year, my grandma and grandpa woke up to a bright blue toilet on their deck filled with an easter bouquet of daisies. Another year, there were signs leading out to their house along the highway inviting any passersby to stop in for Easter brunch. My aunt and uncle will tell you about the time they sleepily wandered into their kitchen and were greeted by a giant cartoon bunny cutout grinning through their picture window.

Amidst all these accusations, the Lockwoods declined to comment. Said Gretchen Lockwood, "I wouldn't know anything about that."

"I wouldn't know anything about that."

Although they've never had a solid alibi on Easter eve, nor witnesses confirming they're at home in bed (where I always urged we should be, even as a young child out galavanting about town in the middle of the night) the Lockwood Homestead is not exempt from nefarious bunnying. More than once, our house and its mailbox were assaulted by pink and turquoise decorations that could not be missed by the most oblivious passerby.

The tradition is not exclusive to Idaho, turns out. It followed me to Oakland, California --where my roommate who was home at the time of the bunnying thought we were about to get robbed, fled out the front door and drove away. You'd think at this point I'd remember to look out for suspicious activity leading up to Easter, but you'd have to keep in mind I'm a very forgetful person who is extremely easy to surprise. Which leads me to the reveal of the bunnying handiwork:

This is how my cubicle normally looks:

Lou, Townsquare Media

...and this is what I came in to see this morning.

Lou, Townsquare Media

Lori was (enthusiastically) roped into the bunnying scheme starting with the arrival of a package from E. B. (I'll give you one guess what that stands for) that provided her all the tools she might need in the process including a "Bunny Crap Deployment Kit":

Lou, Townsquare Media

Inside were scissors, wet naps, rubber bands, clips, tacks, paperclips, and a screw hook:

Lou, Townsquare Media

Needless to say, Lori was the ultimate accomplice and completed the task as directed.

Until next year, bunnies...

Happy Easter!