I was headed home from yet ANOTHER day of substitute teaching at Ephraim Elementary (if the kids like you, you're as good as a rock star!) when I found three little boys setting a leprechaun trap. They showed me how the loop worked to tighten so they could catch the leprechaun by the ankle. They showed me their method of burying the end of the rope under a handful of snow so he wouldn't be suspicious. They gave me the sobering information that they'd caught him earlier, but he escaped when they were in class. Their little faces brightened when I told them that leprechauns were still out, because it was still St. Patrick's Day.
With determination borne of youth, two of them climbed up into the spindly bush where the end of the rope was tied. The third boy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "We're giving up and going inside! We're not trying to catch you any more, leprechaun, so you can come out now!"
Then he made a dash for the spindly bush and ducked behind its skeletal branches, his excited blue eyes peering out for any flash of green.
I got out of there quick. After all, I was dressed in green from my shoulders to my feet, and those boys were so determined, they might decide I was a king-sized leprechaun!
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