What is going on?!

"Why is there a screen in our front yard?!" you ask. Well, that is an excellent question. 

The answer:  Leprechauns. 

Benjamin has been chatting it up with his friends about Saint Patrick's Day at school. He learned that Leprechauns enter your house through a high open window, so you have to leave your window wide open on Saint Patrick's Day eve. He learned that you set your shoes out underneath  your bed and the Leprechaun fills them with money, and that Leprechauns make a mess out of your house turning everything up on end looking for green items and gold. "Terrific" I thought. Just what I need . . . another 'holiday' or event where parents have to tippy-toe into their children's rooms to leave a coin all the while trying not to wake them up . . . worse than the tooth fairy, this guy makes a mess of your house, and you have to leave a window open in the middle of March?! I joked with Benjamin that I might put up a sign telling the Leprechauns not to come into our house. They sounded like a lot of work. Victor stated that he was not in favor of letting the Leprechaun in.

At just past midnight on Saint Patrick's Day Benjamin races into our bedroom, flicks on the over head light and comes over to the side of our bed with eyes as big as saucers and a look on his face that tells me he's expecting to get punished. 

"Benjamin. It's the middle of the night man. What IS it?" I ask.

"I was trying to make sure the Leprechauns could get into the house, so I opened my window and the screen -- BUT THE SCREEN FELL OUT! Like, the screen is ON THE GRASS!"

Good grief, I'm thinking to myself. You've got to be kidding. "Benjamin, please, just go back to bed." 

He looks at me as if to say "YEAH, but the screen!!"

"Benjamin. To bed. You're going to be a crab tomorrow. I love you. Please go to bed!"

He walks out.

About a half hour later, I could swear that through my eyelids I'm seeing light every now and then. Clumping sounds. Now what?!  "Benjamin! What is going on dude?" 

Benjamin comes out from underneath our bed with his clock in hand that lights up when you press the LIGHT button. I'm in utter disbelief.  "What are you doing?!" I ask.

"I'm pretending to be a leprechaun."

Benjamin is under our bed filling our shoes with money that the errrrrr . . . Leprechaun . . . had left in more sensible, less risky places around the house like in the hallway! 

"Benjamin, TO BED. I love you. Go."

I felt bad for the guy. I felt bad that the 'leprechaun' hadn't fully embraced the holiday and Benjamin felt like he had to take up the slack. It won't be long before my soon-to-be ten year old . . . stops, you know. 

For now, I will look back sweetly at being woken up twice after midnight for 9 year old shenanigans.