Kiss Me, I’m Irish


Even though I cannot condone the consumption of crappy green beer, it sure looks festive.

Remember when that was what St. Patrick’s Day was all about? The only lucky charms I needed were a wallet full of money and a belly full of cabbage and whiskey. It was all about drinking a lot and being at least 8 pints Irish, then consummating new relations in parked cars and bathrooms freshly painted green by the haunted livers of a thousand Jackson Pollocks. Man, it was a good time.

This morning when my 3 year old asked what we did on St. Patrick’s Day I started to pour him a Guinness, but then I realized, there was something else we used to do on St. Patrick’s that didn’t involve my children being inebriated.

There were leprechauns and little boys being pinched if they didn’t have at least something green upon them. There were clovers and rainbows and pots of gold. There was actually a kid’s version of the holiday, and from the day I entered a bar it had been forgotten.

Until now. This morning I am wearing green like any other full-bodied mutt with a major percentage of Irish blood, but I am drinking coffee without Bailey’s. My boys are sporting green clothes and smiles connecting rosy cheeks, fresh from the pinches that greeted them upon waking in pajamas of red and blue. Now they know better.

Maybe we’ll do something festive. I don’t have any snakes to drive out our yard, but I do have a gopher problem. I wonder if I can drive snakes in instead of out.

As it is I will dress my family in green, rather than the usual corduroy and denim and I will start them on a path that starts with a pinch and smile and ends in a pot of gold and terrible fake brogues, somewhere over the rainbow.

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