Wisdom,
Swiftness,
& Kindness
—A Wandering Review of—
The Country Bunny and
the Little Gold Shoes
Mrs. Siobhan Heekin-Canedy
Right around this time last year, I stumbled upon an unexpected gem at a consignment sale: a charming children’s book called The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes. Thinking my toddler would be delighted with the multitude of baby bunny illustrations, I snapped it up as a gift for her. As predicted, she was pleased with her new acquisition. What I had not predicted was that this little book from the 1930s would speak so directly, and beautifully, to modern women’s anxiety about work, motherhood, and achieving their dreams.
The Country Bunny was published in 1939, when expectations of women were far different than they are today. Nonetheless, the story speaks volumes about the struggle that so many modern women face: the tension between childrearing and fulfilling aspirations outside the home. In today’s world, motherhood is widely considered to be in conflict with success in other areas of life, and women respond to that perception in various ways. Some women choose to devote themselves solely to homemaking and childrearing, which may be a very good choice; the extreme version of this, however, treats anything else — including any dreams of professional accomplishment — as unseemly (at best) for women. On the other hand, some women respond by devoting themselves excessively to career or personal fulfillment, which may also bring goods but can minimize their mothering and even the number of children they may have; at the extreme, these women may avoid motherhood altogether because they see children as obstacles to dream-fulfillment.
Of course, many women fall in the messy middle: anxious about losing a foothold in the workforce or giving up a long-held passion, yet sensing that motherhood and childrearing are also good and worthy pursuits. They are devoted mothers (or would-be mothers) and do their best to juggle their dreams of motherhood and family life with their other aspirations, including professional. Yet, even for these women (myself included), it sometimes feels like we must find ways to succeed in spite of motherhood, as though motherhood and outside pursuits are inherently opposed.
While I have all too often struggled with this feeling, I ultimately disagree with this dichotomy, and so does the The Country Bunny. The book begins simply: growing up in the country, a little girl bunny, Cottontail, dreams of becoming an Easter Bunny someday. But when she grows up, gets married, and devotes herself to raising her twenty-one(!) baby bunnies, she assumes that her other dream is forever out of reach. Still, when one of the five Easter Bunnies becomes too old and slow to continue delivering eggs, Cottontail and her now somewhat older children go to see wise Grandfather Bunny choose a successor. To everyone’s surprise, Grandfather Bunny rejects the swift, handsome men bunnies who present themselves and instead begins to quiz Cottontail on how she manages her home and cares for her children. Her loving excellence as a mother and homemaker convinces Grandfather that Cottontail should be the new Easter Bunny — not despite her motherhood, but precisely because of it. It is her motherhood that has made her the kindest, swiftest, and wisest rabbit present. And so, with her well-trained brood looking after the household for the day, Cottontail soon finds herself bounding around the world, fulfilling her dream of delivering eggs to children.
Cottontail’s story is especially valuable to mothers today because it does not deny the reality that mothers are needed at home in important ways. Bearing and raising children is a time-consuming business, and there is an opportunity cost involved. Even the most adept multi-tasking mom only has twenty-four hours in a day and four limbs. This opportunity cost is only exacerbated by society’s bias against motherhood. Unfortunately, neither human nor rabbit society recognizes that the work mothers do in the home is valuable; all too often, the “big white rabbits and the Jacks with long legs” tell mothers like Cottontail to “take care of [the babies]” as if such work had no importance at all, and to “leave Easter eggs” — the important work —“to great big men bunnies like us.” Such blunt statements are no longer socially acceptable in most circles, but the sentiment sometimes remains, as mothers who have been passed over for a promotion, “let go” when they become pregnant, or sneered at for having “too many” children or being “just” a stay-at-home-mom know all too well.
Her loving excellence as a mother and homemaker convinces Grandfather that Cottontail should be the new Easter Bunny — not despite her motherhood, but precisely because of it. It is her motherhood that has made her the kindest, swiftest, and wisest rabbit present.
Yet The Country Bunny conveys another important and timeless truth: motherhood is a school of virtue, and the skills that women gain by devoting themselves to motherhood are an asset, not a hindrance, to achieving their other dreams. Motherhood is not at odds with succeeding in other areas of life; rather, it helps you to become the best version of yourself, the version that can go on to do amazing things in many areas. The skills and virtues that Cottontail develops as she cares for her children and eventually trains them to care for themselves —wisdom, swiftness, and kindness, among others — enhance her later work as an Easter Bunny. Indeed, recognizing her particular love for children, it is to Cottontail, not the men bunnies, that Grandfather gives the particularly difficult and coveted task of delivering an egg to a brave, very sick little boy who lives at the top of an icy mountain. And in recognition of her determination and bravery in attempting to scale the mountain, it is to Cottontail that Grandfather gives the little golden shoes that make her final climb up the mountain possible. She gives the greatest happiness of all the Easter bunnies not despite her experience as a mother, but because of it — and then hurries home to deliver treats to her own children in time for Easter morning.
Like little Cottontail, I don’t buy into the work-motherhood conflict, yet even I have my doubts and anxieties from time to time. I am at peace with my decision to limit myself to part-time, flexible work while my children are young, since this works best for our family. I tell myself that I will have time later for my bigger professional dreams, but every so often I worry that, amid the school drop-offs and diaper changes, I will forget about those dreams. This is when Cottontail reassures me. She had nearly given up on her outside-the-home aspirations, but when the right moment came, her dream came back to life, and she seized her opportunity. Perhaps, I think while rereading the book, it’s okay if I lose sight of my professional goals from time to time, too. I can trust that, when my children are older and the moment is right, I will be able to pursue those dreams with my full energy, using the virtues and skills I gained while caring for my children.
To be clear, I don’t think the lesson of this story is simply to stay home while your children are young and then return to work or other outside pursuits when they are older (although this is certainly a helpful strategy for many mothers). Every woman’s path is unique. There are plenty of good reasons for some mothers to work full-time while their children are young, as I did for my first two years of motherhood; conversely, there are plenty of other good reasons for some mothers to devote themselves exclusively to the home even when their children are grown. And admittedly, some dreams are better, or at least more easily, achieved prior to having children. I was blessed with the opportunity to fulfill my lifelong dream of skating in the Olympics before I met my husband or had children. While it has become increasingly common for elite female athletes to return to their sport after having a child, I personally would have struggled to do so.
And that’s all right. The lesson of The Country Bunny is not that there are no sacrifices or trade-offs to be made, or that simply choosing the right sequence makes it easy to thrive in motherhood and in outside endeavors. Rather, Cottontail’s story reminds us that motherhood has the potential to enrich other areas of our lives if we allow it to do so, and in turn, these outside endeavors can enrich our motherhood. Professional work and motherhood can be complementary, even if and when they are not experienced simultaneously. Mother Cottontail ends her work day by bringing her own children their Easter basket; the skills she honed as a mother allowed her to go off and fulfill her other dreams, and now being an Easter Bunny literally allows her to bring gifts to her children. When pursued with prudence and love, a mother’s pursuit of outside endeavors can be a gift not just to herself, but to her family.
I admit that it seems odd to find inspiration in a story about an Easter Bunny, but sometimes children’s stories convey the most important truths in a simple, beautiful way. I also readily admit that this is a fairy tale, and real life doesn’t always turn out with such an unambiguously happy ending. The truth is that most people’s dreams don’t end up being fulfilled exactly as they had imagined. More often than not, our dreams evolve as we go through our lives, and the fulfillment of our deepest desires might come in a form we never expected. The important thing is to recognize that motherhood and children are not obstacles standing in the way of excellence in other endeavors. Reminding ourselves through a charming children’s story is a very good way for us to begin, both as individuals and as a society, to remember that a child is never a problem, and that motherhood can bring many unexpected blessings to women, their families, and the whole world.
