Every year on St. Paddy's Eve, the wife sets out a Leprechaun trap in a vain attempt to catch that pesky varmint and capture his pot o' gold. And every year, the lil green fella seems to avoid being trapped, but manages to wreak havoc within our household: writing on the mirrors, throwing candy, and turning the toilet bowl water green.
Well, this year, much to the disappointment of my 8 and 3/4 year old, the little guy didn't show. She woke up crying, "the house is the same." I said, "But honey, we are not even Irish." And she replied, "I know, but now it just feels like any other day."
So sad. Stupid Leprechaun. Erin-go-bleh!
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