Going Green

It has been said that Leprechauns are mischievous. Yesterday I forgot to wear green, and though I am nearly half Irish (if you scotch-tape together the random bits and pieces of my family tree that hail from the Fair Isle), they really took it out on me. This is how it all went down:

They started my day out by warming up Addy-boy's forehead to a toasty 102°, robbing him of another day of a stellar education.

Next, they whispered to Tessa that she wanted to watch her 3 hour satanic pre-school sing along video from HELLLLLLLL.

They tripped the dog, injuring his leg.

By the time Ethan got home from school they had given him pink eye (not their usual color, but they seemed to delight in the green discharge).

At 4:30PM they possessed Ellie entirely. At first they kept her from doing her homework by enticing her to play. Then, when I confiscated the homework page she wasn’t working on anyway, they got in her britches and pinched her bum until she stomped, screamed, thrashed on the floor and slammed her bedroom door repeatedly. It was sooo fun. Ooooh yeah.

Next, they turned the clock ahead, held the sun in the sky, and made us late for scouts. As we scrambled into the van, the little buggers kept making Tessa drop her seatbelt buckle, and when Adam tried to help her with it, the green beasties shoved her arm really hard, propelling the stick in her hand right into Adam’s open eye. They then climbed into Ethan’s boxers (was that revealing too much? Yes, boxers, not briefs. Sorry son, your secret is out), wriggled up his back and whispered into his ear to hum the stick out the window. Tessa LOVED that. Then they cranked up the decibels on all the crying that was going on for me. That was really fun in a small, enclosed space.

When we got home I decided I had had enough. It was time to take matters into my own hands. I set a trap, wrestled a half dozen of the little trolls into the blender with some sour cream and pressed purée. I baked potatoes, (sorry, no corned beef. My ancestors were poor Irish, we couldn’t afford actual meat), and poured the green innards of the mischief-makers right over the top.

The kids wouldn’t believe that I had ground up leprechauns.

“All of them?”

“Yep.”

“Even their poop?”

“No, of course not their poop. I saved that for dessert.”

Take that, St. Patrick.

Ellie prayed over the meal “…and bless me to stop throwing these terrible fits…”,

then later apologized for her earlier demonic possession. “Thank you, Mom, for trying your best to find something for your rude children to eat.”

Peace seemed to be returning. Maybe it was the pie.

Next year, I’m gonna be ready. I’ll either wear green or I’ll set the traps early.