It’s not because I’m neither Irish or Catholic — though I think that’s reason enough not to celebrate it. Along with the fact that corned beef and cabbage sounds pretty disgusting. And what kind of holiday doesn’t have good food? Not one worth celebrating, I’ll tell you that much.*
But I could look past all of those things and still at least break out something green to wear** if it weren’t for the stupid leprechauns and the traps to catch them that my kids teachers think it would be fun for us to build.
They’re not. Just like it wasn’t fun to build those stupid farms when my oldest girls went through kindergarten. The ones with the instructions that said “no plastic animals” and “must be done by the child.”
Yeah, right. You know how many parents followed those instructions?
Two. My husband and me. And we thought we were cheating when we let Girl 1 help Girl 2 when it was her turn. Until we got to the open house and saw all the freshly painted wood farms with the cute plastic animals. Girl 2’s sad half painted milk carton and little horses hand shaped from clay with only her sister’s help, looked even sadder next to the farms of kids whose parents care.
Especially since most of her horses’ legs had broken upon transport from home to school. We had to tell people Girl 2 had actually made a glue farm and her broken-legged horses were laying on their sides waiting to be put down. And wasn’t that clever of her to think of that?
Not our proudest moment as parents.
So you can imagine our excitement when, due to budget cuts, Girl 3 didn’t have to make a farm last year when she was in kindergarten. And I guess we got a little too comfortable and assumed there would be no first grade leprechaun trap.
The paper came home last week. And I read it and groaned. Which sounded a lot like Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire, except I yelled “Leperchaaaaaaaaauns!!” instead of “Stellllll-A!”
And then I “forgot” about it.
Luckily Girl 3 remembered. Which means she and Daddy will get some project time together tomorrow. After I remind him that I built the last one that required either a lever or a pulley. Both of which he insisted he not only didn’t know how to construct, but also wasn’t entirely sure what they were. So probably a good thing he went into law and not construction.
But this time he doesn’t have an excuse. The assignment is only to build a trap. And since he’s the one who ruined any chance of cheating by throwing away Girl 2’s trap with all my fancy pulleys AND levers (because I’m an overachiever), he’s the one who gets to build our last leprechaun trap ever.
And this one better work because if Girl 3 doesn’t bring home some leprechauns, I may have to do like those one guys did to Christmas (according to Glen Beck) and declare war on St. Patrick’s Day.
Until then, Happy Leprechaun Trapping to me and a wish to all of you that you never have to do the same.
* Except this year I am celebrating it by doing a blog hop and giving away this book:
So come back Friday for a chance to win in my Lucky Leprechaun Giveaway Hop!
** To be honest, I spend a lot of time in my green Monterrey Bay sweatshirt, so it shouldn’t be too much of a sacrifice to wear it on Saturday. Again. With my sweat pants.