St. Patrick's Day Massacre
The buildup to St. Pat's in the kindergarten was intense. Building a "leprechaun trap," choosing the correct shade of green to wear in order to avoid being pinched, the endless discussions with her parents (Steve and I) who insisted that leprechauns aren't real even though she had seen pictures of them with her own two eyes. She arrived at school to find that no leprechauns had been nabbed during the night, and that in retaliation, the mischievous little fiends had overturned one of the tables and made a mess in the room, leaving behind little green footprints and tearing part of the paper of the trap on which she spent so much time and hope. With a party atmosphere in the air, things were going well when suddenly Mrs. B brought out the "shrinking potion" that everyone could taste to see if they would become the same size as the wee folk for an hour or so. She was terrified of the thought that Mrs. B would shrink! She panicked. She had to go out of the room with the teacher's assistant in order to get calm again. When she was able to stop screaming and return to the room, she found that Mrs. B had not shrunk after all, but she still felt pretty anxious and crawled under the table for awhile. Mrs. B was in the restroom with one of the other little girls who had tried the potion (apparently it tasted suspiciously like green kool aid) and ended up throwing up in the potty. It was a holiday the likes of which the emerald isles have never seen.