How to not catch a Leprechaun

This is Rory’s Leprechaun trap. Our granddaughter is ten. She’s been making these contraptions for years. Rory does indeed have Irish blood lines. One was my paternal grandmother, Cora Casey. And the other was Kristin’s paternal great, grandmother, Ivy Doyle. Although, Ivy went to her grave quite insistent that she was not Irish.

This year’s temptations consisted of chocolate, some bling from a Mardi Gras Party K and I went to in Nashville recently, and an irresistible drink made from cooking oil, blue food dye and some glitter.

The trap is deployed the night before St. Patrick’s Day. Two of Rory’s trusted stuffed toys hide under a chair and wait to pull the trap cord.

This year, like all the previous attempts, the trap was sprung in the morning and excitement builds, but the contents are gone and only a handwritten note remains;

Dear Rory,

Nice try and better luck next year.

I will reward your persistence with this certificate for one free expansion pack for your new video game.

BTW, your guards were asleep.

For myself, I never made a Leprechaun trap, but I should have. I just put my tooth under the pillow for 25 cents.