Secret Bunny Club

When my daughter was five years old, she was fascinated with the idea of secret clubs. Maybe it’s a girl thing. Undoubtedly, she got the idea from TV and was eager to have her own club, with its own password, club meetings and rules. So, she invited me in.

“Mommy, do you want to be part of my Girls Rule Club?”

“Sure! What do we have to do?”

“Let’s go in my room and we’ll make up a handshake and I’m going to make a sign for my door that it’s only for girls.”

“I want to be in the club!” my husband said excitedly. He edged himself closer to us, knowing that my daughter was about to push him away.

“No, Daddy. It’s only for girls.”

“I can be a girl,” he begged.

“Daddy! You’re not a girl. This is for girls only.” She grabbed my hand and led me up to her room, oblivious to the fact that her father was walking ten steps behind us, as elusive as a cartoon villain.

We entered my daughter’s room and she pulled out construction paper so that we could make signs. And then she got us each a necklace that we could wear. “Only people in the Girls Rule Club can wear these,” she said importantly.

My husband popped into the room. “I want one!” he begged again.

Exasperated, my daughter got to her feet and began pushing her father back out of her room. “No, Daddy. I told you, it’s girls only.” She shut the door in his face as he protested that he could be a girl. Or he could be our mascot. Or our servant. He knew our secret handshake! She ignored him and returned to sign-making.

A minute later, my husband began opening the door, peeping inside the crack with exaggerated secrecy. Still five-years-old and no more mature than a few minutes earlier, my daughter remained oblivious. My husband tried everything to nonchalantly get her attention, but she was completely absorbed in her work. I was doing my best not to laugh and decided to help him out.

“What was that?” I said suddenly. “I think I heard someone outside your door.”

Confused, she marched over and opened the door. My husband did a comic pratfall and belatedly tried to hide before he was discovered.

“Daddy!” she warned him. “Quit spying! It’s girls only!”

My husband did his best hang-dog look, but she wasn’t having it. She closed the door again and resumed her coloring, completely unaware that he had already opened the door and was again staring in at us. I could not hold back my laughter. My husband had no qualms about making a fool of himself to play with our daughter, so I decided to play it out.

I cupped my hand and whispered into my daughter’s ear, “Don’t look, but I think Daddy is right outside your door spying on us again.” Naturally, she looked. He yelped and ducked out of the way. She was about to get up and push him out of her room again when I stopped her. “Let’s pretend we have a different club and we’ll see if he’s been listening.”

I sat back and said out loud, “Let’s have a Secret Bunny Club. Our password can be ‘What’s up, Doc’ and to be in the club, everyone will have to hop up and down like a bunny when they go outside.”

My daughter’s mouth opened wide. I don’t think she really understood what I was doing. In fact, she wanted to go outside and do the Secret Bunny Club hop right that minute. She ran toward her door and pushed it open, oblivious to my husband’s fake look of innocence as she caught him spying right outside her door again. It didn’t matter. She was a girl on a mission. And I knew, he was a man on a mission.

“Where are you going? Is this secret club stuff?” he asked as he trailed her down the stairs.

“We have secret club stuff to do, Dad,“ I said haughtily as I brushed him aside. “You don’t know the handshake or the password or anything.”

“If I guess, can I be in the club?” he asked.

I shrugged. My daughter took her cue and shrugged, too. “We’re going outside,” I goaded my husband as I breezed past him. He darted out in front of me and bounded through the door. As soon as he got outside he started bouncing up and down, yelling, “What’s up, Doc?”

“You were spying!” I said with mock horror.

“Can I be in the club now? Can I? Can I? I know the Secret Bunny password! And the hop!” He bounced up and down the driveway as my daughter watched. I think she’d forgotten that we were playing a trick on her dad.

“There is no Secret Bunny Club!” I smirked gleefully. “We just made that up to catch you spying!”

“Oh!” he said with exaggerated shame. “I wanted to be a Secret Bunny.”

“Only girls can be in the club, Daddy,” my daughter said again. She turned to me. “Let’s go back in my room and work on the club some more.” She took my hand and started leading me toward the stairs as my husband so-not-furtively followed behind us. “Want to make it the Secret Girls Bunny Club?”

And we started the whole thing again.