We interrupt our regular programming...
to bring you this three-leaf clover!
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Caroline came home from school yesterday equal parts elated and on the brink of despair.
Elated, because it was St. Patrick's Day and there had been reported leprechaun sightings all over the playground.
Despair, because her trap failed to catch one.
"Oh, Mum. I had such confidence in my trap!," she kept saying, over and over. That killed me, so for my own amusement I kept the conversation going as long as I possibly could. Now she doesn't know what to think. Life is meaningless. I think she's going to start reading Camus.
Despair, also, because apparently I was the only parent in all the land who didn't give her children sweets for St. Paddy's Day. Sorry, but I have a hard time keeping up with all these candy-obligatory observances.
Anyway, back to the trap. The best thing about it? 'Twas a sisters-only collaboration, using materials found around the house.
Yes, parents: dreams really do come true.
As you can see, it all begins with a little reverse psychology, something I probably used too much of when the girls were younger.
The leprechaun is lured through the hole, runs down the red carpet toward the gold, fails to see the little trip step placed strategically before a pile of tar and falls into the sticky mess, releasing a net that falls down and captures him.
Clever, non?
We tried it on Professor Plum several times and it worked like a charm.
Unfortunately, I now see it worked all too well in Caroline's mind. When the children returned from lunch, as part of the fun, the "leprechaun" had run through their classroom and created all sorts of mischief. But I don't think the note he left quite satisfied her curiousity.
I think she would have much preferred harder evidence; indeed, there was a rumor going through the school that one boy had discovered a leprechaun leg in his trap and as Caroline relayed this sordid detail, I could tell some part of her was thinking: what did he do to deserve all the luck?