I went to The Bagel Inn this morning and the scone of the day was pistachio (you know, green). I love their pistachio scones. The coffee flavor I got was a little iffy, but drinkable. I brought it home instead of eating/drinking there just because I would rather work now and have fun later, instead of the other way ’round.
Yesterday I told Junior that today he should wear green because it’s St. Patrick’s Day. The interesting thing about a kid this age is they either want lots of details or none. In this case, he didn’t even ask who St. Patrick was or why we’re celebrating his day. Just matter-of-fact acceptence.
I promptly forgot about it after that, and this morning I put out jeans and a blue long-sleeved shirt with a lizard on it. He came blazing into my room.
“Mom! I can’t wear that shirt, it isn’t green!”
“Oh wow, I forgot, let’s see if you have something green.”
We rummage. The only real green-green shirt he has is a turtleneck that is probably too small for him. I think it just comes to the waist of his pants, and who knows how tight the neck is. Plus, it’s going to be 60 today. I don’t want him to wear it but he insists. Then he finds a green pair of pants that almost matches the color of the shirt. He looks like a leprachaun, and I tell him so. He thinks that’s funny, and he also thinks (thanks Blue’s Clues!) that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is actually those foil covered chocolate coins, I believe aka gelt.
So he’s very green today, and proud of it. He’s actually one-sixteenth Irish. My great-grandmother (on my father’s side, his mother’s mother) was born in Ireland. Reason enough to celebrate, right?