My Secret Life as a Leprechaun
I discovered recently, after long holding beliefs to the contrary, that I am in fact part Irish. I’ve always enjoyed celebrating St. Patty’s Day, even when I wasn’t Irish, but now I can pompously claim that I’m just honoring my heritage when pinching greenless bystanders mercilessly.
This year I decided to do something a wee bit special for my nieces and nephews to pay homage to The Emerald Isle. I sewed tiny drawstring bags out of appropriately festive fabric and filled them with chocolate coins. Then, when my family had their St. Patrick’s Day get-together, I arrived early to simulate a leprechaun visit with tiny footprints and a series of notes that led to the end of the rainbow. My leprechaun treasure hunt was a mystical success! Sadly, after all that work, not all of the kiddies were able to be present but the ones that were seemed to find it as magically delicious as I intended.
Seeing as I’m not quite short enough to be a leprechaun, I have vowed to give up my shamrock shenanigans for now. Who knows though, maybe next year I will break out the little feet and gold-laden cauldron again. After all, people have been telling me for years that I look elfish so maybe, considering my newfound Irish ancestry, my impish charades are only a wee stretch.