Our Second Grade Teacher is Fucking with Leprechaun Traditions

Since it’s St. Patrick’s Day Eve, let me ask you, are you tormented by this new generation celebrating every minor event? I’m a real grown up, a Gen X-er, a child of the 80’s, so I call bullshit when I see it. I never celebrated St. Patty’s Day beyond wearing a green shirt and trying to pinch other kids who forgot to wear green. Because that was the mean spirited fun that the 80’s was predicated upon.

St. Patrick’s Day is a grown-up holiday. With haggis and corn beef and Guinness! It’s for Irish people! (And I’m Irish, and from Boston, so I do get to have this rant.) And it’s mainly drinking and getting into bar fights. But now eeeeeverybody celebrates it. Everyone is Irish on March 17th. Fine. Get your drink on. I don’t want to take away from the salient point of this article which is: we now have ridiculous holiday customs that amount to more work for grown ups who might just want to drink the aforementioned beer and eat the (gross)food. But we’re all agreed on certain things. There is something called a leprechaun. He’s a imp from Ireland who keeps his gold at the end of the rainbow. He likes cereal containing awesome marshmallows. And once a year, he breaks into my house and tries to steal my shiny, shiny gold.

It began in 2013:

ONE THOUSAND CURSES upon the preschool teacher who first introduced “The Leprechaun Trap”. You know who you are. Yes, I had a hyperactive, autistic 3 year old and I was very pregnant, so I was inordinately pissed when my son bounced around the house, explaining that we needed to haul out all manner of boxes and pillows and blankets to make a trap and then bait the trap with shiny jewelry. If we caught him, he’d have to give us his gold!

Fine.

Boxes. Blankets. Costume jewelry. Pennies. Every year, more elaborate schemes were concocted. Sticky tape on the window sills, misleading signage about leprechauns being welcome here…it’s was all a bit dark, but I was in deep after a few years and just went with it. Like with many things in a parent’s life, this is what we do now. We make leprechaun traps.

(I think I may have been getting off easy as I know some parents put green glitter everywhere, and glitter is verboten in my house. )

Spoiler Alert: If you’ve never had a leprechaun trap, he always gets away. In my house, he manages to “drop” some $1’s and chocolate coins. We eat Lucky Charms for breakfast and wear a green shirt. We have been doing leprechaun traps for 9 years. It’s tradition. And hard headed Irish folk will tell you, you don’t mess with tradition.

Well, this year, 2nd son’s teacher, the fecking eejit, drops “Lilly the Leprechaun Liaison” into our world. I shit you not. She, being Lilly, sent home a very officious looking document, in fancy font, printed in green ink with little shamrocks across the header, laying out this cockamamie story that alllllllll along, we’ve misunderstood leprechauns! They’re not trying to cause mischief! No, they want to be our friends! And, they’re the size of a mouse.

Did I remind you that I’m doing distance learning for three children so this really is the equivalent of taking a dump on my lawn? And speaking of which,

Bullshit! I call bullshit. You cannot just step in and totally change the whole backstory of a popularly maligned imp just to push your touchy-feely, we’re all friends in 2021 ethos. I even tried to call out the ridiculousness of this supposition, but apparently, a 7 year old is very, very swayed by green ink and shamrock clip art. Not wanting to be a total asshole, I helped him make his little house for the “mouse -sized” leprechaun. But I’m not happy about it!

And now I’ve got waring leprechaun philosophies in my house! The OG son is wanting to build a trap. He walked away in disgust as my 2nd son insists that we construct a castle, nay, a VILLAGE for our diminutive friend. 3rd son is just excited to have so many Target boxes pilled up in the living room. 1st son is even claiming that he doesn’t believe in magic anymore. So thanks very much for ruining Easter, the Tooth Faerie, and Santa, ya geebag!

So, this is where we’re at. Our family is divided. We went from trying to trap the leprechaun and make him give us his gold, to building him a twee little home and being his friend.

Tonight, I say,

Screw you, ya gobshite not-even-Irish teacher! I hope the leprechaun leaves a disproportionately large green shit on your bed. Cuz he’s not tiny like a mouse!

All of this AND the lickarse teacher sent home piles of candy and cookies so the child will be high on sugar in my home.

Published by Cynthia Zorabedian

I have always identified as a writer. My skills were honed early, writing poetry and research papers. Lately, my words have been used largely in passionate letters to the school district in which I advocate for the rights of my autistic children. My humor is my release from the stress of being a special needs parent and I'm finding so much joy in my new blog. I'm a Boston girl who now lives in Southern California with my husband and three sons.

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