Easter sprinkling can be a beautiful tradition. Really. It brings playfulness, community, and a touch of childhood nostalgia. If someone enjoys it, that’s totally okay. Go ahead and celebrate it. Just not with my daughter.
My daughter doesn’t like all the fuss that comes with Easter. She’s fine with egg painting and happily shares the ones she decorates. But she doesn’t like strong smells. She doesn’t like being touched unexpectedly. She doesn’t like her hair getting wet. Her Asperger’s includes sensory sensitivity, but honestly, that’s just extra info. She doesn’t have to explain why she dislikes something—it’s enough that she does.
That should be enough.
But it’s not. Because every year, some people get offended. They look confused when we say: thanks, but no thanks. They think it’s just:
"Just a little sprinkling."
"Just a tradition."
"They only meant well."
It’s That “Just” That’s Really Exhausting
Because “just” really means their intentions matter more than my child’s boundaries. That tradition matters more than her comfort. That their good feelings—doing something nice—matter more than the fact that this “kindness” actually feels uncomfortable or even unpleasant to the person it’s meant for.
Many then appeal to tradition. And yes, I know this tradition exists. Women—and little girls—often tolerate things for the sake of peace. They don’t say no, don’t set boundaries, because “that’s how it’s done.” But maybe this is exactly the moment to pause and say: we’re not passing this tradition on.
Because what am I teaching my daughter if I let someone do something she doesn’t want? That her comfort comes second? That if someone smiles while doing something, she has to tolerate it? That the label “kindness” overrides everything?
I Want to Teach Her Something Different
That her body belongs to her. That “no” is a complete sentence. That she doesn’t have to explain why she doesn’t want something. And that she doesn’t owe anyone politeness in uncomfortable situations.
Honestly, I don’t understand those who get offended. Who say, “But I only wanted to make her happy.” Don’t they realize that if my daughter’s happiness really mattered, what she feels good about would be the priority?
This year, I decided not to get upset about it. I won’t explain or justify. I’ll simply set a boundary.
You Won’t Be Sprinkling My Daughter
If you get that, I’m glad. If not, I can live with that too. I’m not responsible for your feelings. I’m responsible for my daughter. For making sure she feels safe, is taken seriously, and learns that her boundaries matter too.
But I won’t take on the job of managing the sprinklers’ emotional reactions. After all, I’m not their mom.
