This Leprechaun is on Strike

Holidays have gotten out of control.

I write this after sending an underwhelmed seven-year-old (yes, he’s seven now!) on the bus on St. Patrick’s Day. Apparently he was expecting much more out of the leprechaun, who failed miserably.

When I was a kid St. Patrick’s Day included special edition Lucky Charms and maybe some Irish soda bread. If we were really lucky we weren’t forced to eat the corned beef and cabbage that my mom cooked all day in the crock pot. Or at least all I was expected to do was pick out the potatoes and carrots.

But sometime over the past few decades, things changed.

Is it not enough that moms and dads are expected to spend a fortune and dedicate a month to making the Christmas season a magical experience, thanks to Elf on the Shelf extending what used to be a two-day, one-night holiday for most, into a couple weeks of stress? And what about the Easter Bunny running around at daybreak hiding eggs and baskets in various nooks and crannies?

No, now we also have to make little gift bags to send into school for Valentine’s Day, since some parent decided to raise the bar and now simple little cards with characters or dinosaurs on them that say “You take a bite out of my heart” simply aren’t enough, and we have to assemble little packages with stickers, candy, Legos, Play-Dough – you name it – included.

And then there’s St. Patrick’s Day.

The first few years of Mikey’s life I’m not sure we even celebrated the holiday. At age 3, I believe, we got him some green beads and those little chocolate coins. But at age 5 things took a turn.

When I picked the child up from daycare that year he said he was so excited to go home and see what the leprechaun had left. When I pushed for more details, he told me the leprechaun had visited all his friends’ homes overnight, making a mess, leaving tricks and treats and toys behind, and escaping all attempts at being caught.

Since the leprechaun hadn’t visited our house overnight, he figured the little guy (or girl) would be visiting while he was at daycare and therefore something would be waiting for him when we got there.

That was news to me.

Luckily, my husband was working from home that day so I texted him, instructing him to – and I quote – “Mess up the house and find some kind of something for the leprechaun to leave behind.”

Fortunately, the house almost always looks like it’s been ransacked so it wasn’t too much of an ask for him to send a few more things askew, but the real miracle was that we just so happened to have a gift that we held onto from Mikey’s birthday only two weeks prior.

Because the kid didn’t need any more presents… That was, apparently, until St. Patrick’s Day rolled around (cue eye roll).

My husband was able to complete the assignment and our child was ecstatic that the leprechaun visited and all was well in the world. However, now that the bar has been set, the expectation exists every year.

Well, this year the leprechaun was tired. And also a little disgusted with the over-consumerism and just all the “stuff” this kid has – from toys to clothes to games to athletic accessories. He needs nothing, and we can barely fit anything else in the house.

So the leprechaun threw a few strings of beads around the living room, left behind some paper four-leaf clovers, knocked over the leprechaun trap, and graced Mikey with a small outdoor toy and called it a night.

The next morning the child woke up at 6:30 a.m., anxious to see what the leprechaun had done. He ran out of his room and the underwhelm was evident on his face.

Running into the playroom to find it untouched, and then coming back, he asked, “Why didn’t the leprechaun make a mess like he did last year?”

“Well,” I said. “I guess he does something different every year.”

Mikey scrunched his face, opened the toy and played with it for about 30 seconds, and then asked to turn on the TV. I felt equal parts guilty, because I had apparently dropped the ball, and irritation, because we have also apparently created a monster.

Talk about spoiled – and not just in material things, but in experiences.

Just two weeks prior my husband and I spent more than a mortgage payment lining up summer camps, a camping weekend, a bigger (albeit brief) vacation for summer, and also a nearby spring break trip – all for this kid who was pouting on the couch.

I remember being a kid. And I remember the excitement of holidays and those magical times when you let yourself believe that something or someone enchanted was paying a visit and leaving you a treat.

But I also remember receiving a lot less and being even more grateful for it.

And so, my husband and I are officially lowering the bar. That’s right, we have committed to gradually disappointing our child until he is once again excited by the little things.

It’s going to start with the next holiday – Easter – when the child will be reminded of the real reason for the season, and it will continue with the Tooth Fairy, when the child finally loses a tooth.

Speaking of… What’s the going rate for that first tooth? Is it still $1, or are we up to Abe Lincoln now? Alexander Hamilton? I’m afraid to ask about Andrew Jackson…

Holly Crocco is editor of the Putnam County Times/Press and mother of a 7-year-old. She can be reached at editorial@putnampresstimes.com.