Just yesterday a leprechaun visited Tau’s preschool class. He turned all the toy boxes upside down, magic’d the water in the toilets green, and sneezed all over the circle-time carpet dusting everyone and everything with glittery gold.
And so at the dinner table tonight we are asked, “Where do leprechauns live?”
“I have no idea,” I say.
He turns his attention immediately. “Daddy, where do the leprechauns live?”
“I don’t know, Tau. Ask your Mom — she knows all these things.”
I give Dave the stink eye. “In case you didn’t know, you’re also on the hook for explaining mythical characters.”
St. Paddy’s Day has no meaning for us. Leprechauns? We just don’t care. But at preschool, every Hallmark holiday is fair game — good for a marching parade, a party, themed story books and art projects on the subject.
Later as we dress him in PJs, Tau stares up at the world map on his wall. “Where do the leprechauns live?”
“Up in that white part at the top,” Dave says matter of factly.
We all set our focus on Greenland, which is all-white on this map. We have told him that this is where The North Pole is located, that it is super cold there, and it takes 11 (eleven!) airplanes to get there. So we won’t be visiting any time soon.
“Santa lives at the very top of Greenland,” I tell him, picking up where Dave leaves off, “and the leprechauns live at the very bottom of Greenland.”
“Because they are green,” Dave adds, with authority.