When I was growing up the Easter Bunny visited our house Friday night. I think ideologically it was because my parents had no objection to hidden eggs and chocolate bunnies, but wanted to spend Easter Sunday focused on the resurrection of Jesus Christ. I think pragmatically it was because getting to church on time was difficult enough without hunting eggs first.
I don’t remember how my parents explained the altered schedule of festivities. I do remember that since I received a basket of goodies earlier than any of my classmates I assumed that my family had our very own Easter Bunny. And my childhood mind concluded that if we had our own Easter Bunny we must have actually had an entire complement of magical characters specific to our little family. I was certain that there was a tooth fairy assigned to us exclusively. And, of course, we had our very own personal Santa Claus. I believed that our Santa had a north pole, a sleigh, flying reindeer including Rudolph, and an army of elves in a workshop making toys. But it was all just for me, my parents, and my siblings. Other people had a different Santa. I never wondered how Santa made it to all the houses in the whole world in one night because our Santa had only one family to visit
As I look back I am convinced that my childhood fantasies were the height of narcissism.