The fantasy has ended for My Girl...yes, she figured it out. DISCLAIMER:Do not let any of your believer children read this. Really, they shouldn't be reading this blog anyway. I am not always appropriate.
I guess I need to explain a little about the leprechauns. We put out our stockings on Christmas and Santa fills them. He even fills mom's, dad's, the dog's, the bunny's, and even the fish's stocking. Not that a fish would have a stocking, since he has no feet. On Easter, we place the Easter baskets out with a carrot for the Easter Bunny and he eats some of it and leaves treats. We had never before done anything for St. Patrick's Day, until we moved into our house in 2004. Our new neighbors, and now very good friends, had these rotten leprechauns that would visit their house each year.
I can tell you why the leprechauns never visited our house before this...March 17th can end up on any day of the week. Not like Easter, always on a Sunday. Not like Christmas, usually preceded and followed by a day off. Well, St. Patrick's Day, as much as I would like it to be, is not a day off for most people. Although, I have known more than a few who call in sick the day after, but that's a whole other story.
So, our great friends next door have these havoc wreaking leprechauns. When the children are asleep on March 16th, these little rascals make a total mess. They knock over chairs, turn over tables, and last year they even shaved off half the beard of the man of the house while he was sleeping (see what I mean..over achievers). They also leave treats like gold chocolate coins and Lucky Charms cereal. So, the first year we move in and St. Patrick's Day comes around and My Girl hears the kids talking about what the leprechauns had done to their house, what happens? She says, "Why don't the leprechauns come to our house?"
What do you say? My wit kicked in and I said, "They must have done so many crazy things next door they lost track of time, the sun came up, and they had to hide. You never know what'll happen next year." For the last 3 years I have been up in the middle of the night on March 16th making a mess, throwing green confetti around, criss crossing green yarn across bedroom doors, etc. This is why St. Patrick's Day should be a holiday. You can't clean that up before school and work on a weekday.
A couple weeks ago as we are driving to some activity My Girl says, "Mom, I think the leprechauns are really you and daddy." I wanted to say, "Daddy, no way. It's all me, girlfriend." Instead I ask, "What makes you think that?" She says, "Well, I know there are no little green men running around our house making a mess." Thank goodness! I started to have that feeling all us moms get. You know, when you see your child on stage at a Christmas program or watch them do something monumental like ride a bicycle solo for the first time. You begin to tremble with the realization that one of your babies is growing up. You want to giggle only because you are so delighted, but it usually ends up being a mixture of tears and the giggle you can't contain. Unfortunately, this ends up sounding more like a bawling laughter.
I waited for a few seconds and said, "What do you think?" My Girl says, "I think, I know, it's you." Then, I waited and held my breath in anticipation of the next question. "Are you Santa, too?" I wanted to cry. My baby is growing up and I have absolutely no power to change it. This control freak is done for.
I went into the explanation of how Santa is the Spirit of Christmas, how it would be physically impossible for one man to get to every house in the world in one night, and blah, blah, blah. Of course, she said she knew that she had seen some of the toys she received this year at Target. If there were actually elves making toys, I'm sure they would be better quality and they probably wouldn't take a half hour to untie from their boxes.
My Girl has now joined the ranks of those that know "The Secret." She is now officially in training through St. Patrick's and Easter and will be out of probation once this Christmas rolls around. I am hoping this means I can go to bed at a reasonable hour and she can take over. Who am I kidding? This just means I don't have to wait for her to go to bed. So, if your little ones are still believing, let them! And, cherish each and every 2 a.m. stocking stuffing session while you can.
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