Julie texted me a warning: Both kids left their bedroom doors open this morning so that a leprechaun would have no problem sneaking in to leave magical treats and surprises.
Previous St. Patrick's Days have yielded zero leprechaun visits to our house. I am 1/8-Irish, and Julie is 1/4. That makes our kids (carry the 2, square root the whatever) 3/16-Irish, in other words unlikely to attract the attention of anybody named Seamus, let alone a leprechaun. I explained this to them in the car.
"But a leprechaun left candy in Hannah's room and also turned her toilet water green," Lyla pointed out.
"We'll check our rooms just in case," added Rowan.
"Yeah," said Lyla.
"Yeah," said Rowan.
"Yeah," said Lyla again.
"Okay, but seriously, you're not going to find anything from a leprechaun. There are childhoods that involve leprechaun visits and elves on shelves, but those are not your childhoods. I'm sorry."
It was silent as we drove up the hill and turned onto the street before the street before the street we live on. Then Lyla asked if we could order pizza and Rowan asked if they could have an Ice Breaker mint. I said sure, and fine cheer was restored.
As I type this, Rowan is turning an empty Kleenix box into a leprechaun trap. Just in case.
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