A box of Cap'n Crunch vicariously knocked on it's side, spilling it's contents across the table.
Doors taped shut with thick, blue painter's tape.
Toilet paper, wrapped mummy fashion around one bathroom.
A collection of hefty art books carelessly tossed on the floor.
A pretzel path winding it's way through the house.
DVDs heaped on the family room floor.
Two overturned chairs.
A pile of clean clothes from Brock's dresser piled haphazardly on the floor in front of his door.
It's safe to say that the leprechauns did their best this year to create enough magic and mischief to capture the imagination of one tow-headed, 5-year old boy.
Silly leprechauns!
Before the dawn on St. Patrick's Day, the aforementioned child had discovered the "evidence" of leprechauns and had woken up five separate times throughout the night to inform us of another mess or mishap, courtesy of the leprechauns. FIVE TIMES! He was too excited to sleep!
Clarke and I struggled to maintain a poker face and play along, but laughed hysterically each time we had to send him back to bed. Turns out we're lousy actors. It also turns out, Brock is lousy at spotting fake actors, so in the end, it all worked out perfectly. Except for the part where he woke us up five times at odd and early morning hours to tell us that the leprechauns had knocked over a chair or dropped a pretzel.
In the end, all that matters is that he BOUGHT IT.
And these magical lies are one of the BEST things about being a parent.
