Where is my bunny?

Occasionally, I allow the internet as a whole (or my 8 readers, to be specific) to be privy to actual conversations that occur in my home. Here is one, with my husband from Easter Sunday:

H: “Where is my bunny?”
Me: “I couldn’t find any this year.” (I left out that I didn’t begin shopping for candy until Friday afternoon but he’s aware of that, it just likely falls under the category of Things my wife says that I actually respond to but later swear to no prior knowledge.)
H: “You always get me a bunny.” (He likes to dip them in peanut butter, a fact he told me once that I, as an excellent wife, remembered.
Me: “Yes, but I went to four stores. The first had no candy. The second only had Reese’s (which my stepdaughter detests but every other person loves, possibly proving she may be an alien. And, also, doesn’t that taste just like dipping a chocolate bunny in peanut butter, so who cares?) the third had no more Easter candy.”
H: “Walmart didn’t have chocolate bunnies?” (Said with extreme disbelief.)
Me: “They were ripping down Easter signs while we checked out.” (Said with the expertise of giving non-answers after many years of marriage since I technically forgot to look.) “And the last store was completely wiped out, too. I had to get [the alien… probably] a regular pack of candy to put in her basket.”
H: “But where are the bunnies?”
Me: “No one [here] has bunnies. I couldn’t find them!”
Middle child, a.k.a. The Troublemaker: “The last store had stuffed bunnies. She bought [youngest child] one.”
Me: (To her,) “That isn’t what he means.” (To him,) “We’ve been married 18 years–” (I’m attempting to point out my thoughtfulness not only for buying an adult man a chocolate bunny 17 years in a row AND my loving nature for making up baskets for 19-, 17-, and 9-year-old children. Still. But he interrupts me.)
H: “And you always get me a bunny!”

It is at this point I realize how ridiculous this conversation has become and that, apparently, there’s no defense. It’s always wise to pick your battles and since he just kept repeating himself like a sad, bunny-deprived broken record, it seemed the only response was silence. Silence and shame.