#thetoby has a burning desire to catch a leprechaun. Burning with the intensity of a thousand suns. Last year, his obsession reached new heights with construction of a trap, the lure of some coins, and a LOT of conversation about how the leprechaun would be captured.

We fed the flames of his quest by leaving plenty of evidence of a leprechaun on St. Paddy’s Day morning last year. We’d been caught relatively unaware of the elaborate nature of his trap and the parental demands of St. Patrick’s Day, resulting in a late-night trip to Dollar General and liberal application of cheap four-leaf clover decorations. We blamed Biscuit for the leprechaun’s escape, explaining that she must have heard him, come downstairs, and scared him away. He accepted that as fact and was beyond delighted at the debris/proof of leprechaun life. 

And immediately began planning for this year’s festivities. We were now committed to an annual ritual of fabrication of leprechaun evasion and evidence. 

This year, I was prepared. A few weeks ago, I bought one of everything from the Target dollar bins dedicated to this Irish holiday and stashed the bag in my trunk. Toby began planning his trap right after Christmas. There was, shall we say, a lot of discussion about the physics of a leprechaun escape.

By the night before St. Paddy’s, he’d constructed a new trap with an alternative capture system to last year’s. This one involved fishing line with tiny Christmas bells attached, as a trip-wire to alert us of the leprechaun’s antics. There were four, count them, four notes to the leprechaun. The most involved one of which made sure to inform the the leprechaun that Biscuit was in the house and upstairs, so she didn’t spook him again. This kid doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He also made me promise to close the door to our room to keep her upstairs. That scapegoat was off the table. 

His note also stipulated that all he wanted was a photo of the leprechaun, though he told me that was “just a trick” and that he really wanted to own the leprechaun body and soul and have him sleep on his pillow every night. Slightly creepily manipulative. Note to self. 

For some reason, he also decided the leprechaun might appreciate some new outfits, so he stapled a construction paper suitcase together and filled it with a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, a long-sleeved shirt and pants, and a hat for the leprechaun, all cut from construction paper and stapled together. His sizing of these items revealed that he imagines the leprechaun to be about 2” tall.

So, as my entire household slept, I triggered the leprechaun traps, sprinkled shamrock necklaces and chocolate gold coins about, applied gummy St. Patrick’s Day message letters to the floor and door, and dyed his milk green. It looked like the Target dollar bin had vomited on my kitchen floor. Which it had. 

I also took a photo of this year’s trap and found some clip-art of a leprechaun online. My graphic design skills are very, very minimal, but I was able to cut and paste the leprechaun onto the trap in a way that made it seem he was sitting on it realistically. I printed the photo out, wrote a “note from the leprechaun” on the bottom, and set it up at the scene. It wasn’t bad for a bleary-eyed 11 p.m. project.

St. Paddy’s Day morning went to plan. Cue the delighted child finding all his leprechaun loot. His disgust at the green milk was a bit unexpected, but quickly smoothed over. He was annoyed that the leprechaun didn’t take his offering of a flashlight (momfail) but really loved his St. Paddy’s socks, Irish flag glasses, and shamrock scarf. He was intrigued by the photo of the leprechaun, mystified as to how he took it and printed it out, but also pretty convinced there’d been a 2-inch tall Irishman in our kitchen. I patted myself on the back for a win.

Too soon.

Toby also spent all day here at the house with me, as schools are closed and I was working from home for the day. He asked me to get him set up on his school learning apps, and I said sure and opened my personal laptop.

What was the last thing I’d used the laptop for? Photoshopping the leprechaun onto the trap in the photo. Ergo, the photo of the leprechaun sprang up bright as day as the MacBook lit up. Shit. 

“MOM, HOW DID THE LEPRECHAUN PHOTO GET ON YOUR COMPUTER???”  

Toby was astounded. I went with it. “Did he USE MY COMPUTER? I did leave it on the kitchen counter. I bet that’s what he did. That little bugger!”

There was a split second where my kid contemplated, and then decided to stay a kid for a little while more and bought it. But he’s older now, so magic must be explained. 

“You’re going to have to change your computer password, Mom. You don’t want him to be on there again. That was sneaky! How did he take the picture? Did he use the printer? How did he reach the printer? How did he know how to use a computer? How did he get the computer open if he’s so small? Did he jump on the keys or use his fingers? Look, he left fingerprints all over your screen!” 

All. Day. Long. He hypothesized how the leprechaun could possibly have taken that photo and printed it. The blind acceptance of the drawn leprechaun image within a photo dissipated and he began to doubt if the leprechaun was real, or if the photo was real. I stopped patting myself on the back for a rare momwin. 

By the end of the day, he was still skeptical, but it was more of a “the leprechaun made this out of a photo” and not “the leprechaun wasn’t here and mom planted the photo,” so I reckon I’m still kind of ahead. 

But I’m truly screwed next year, as he’s already planning. And he’s decided that if the leprechaun leaves a photo again, it will have to be of his whole family. Bring on the clip art.