My 23 and Me results are quite dramatic. For all intents and purposes, I am a veritable mutt, 31 flavors of genetic ice cream. In all my inherited DNA is colored green, no luck of the Irish in me.
That’s why I forgot it was St. Patrick’s Day this morning.
Ironically, I am wearing a green shirt. It is one of my favorites: a Kafka Metamorphosis T-shirt. The perfect shade of green, a bit grassy, a bit mossy, not quite kelly and not quite pea, it suits me as an English teacher and fan of the book. It wasn’t until my wife opened her phone for a message that our household considered our wardrobe choices. Since I was already appropriately dressed, I didn’t give it further thought. My toddler however, immediately needed to find something green.
“Why do we have to wear a green?” he asked my wife, concerned he’s missing out on some holiday message. Then, she casually explained, “Because if you don’t the leprechauns will pinch you.” The machinations inside my son’s head begin to turn, each cog rotating with another. I can see through his facial transfigurations that he is pondering his next move. With the self-assurance only possessed by a toddler, he confidently requests his lime green sunglasses in an action that begs a leprechaun to dare come near him. Just try pinching me, he seems to say.
“I’m going leprechaun hunting,” he announces. Consequently, the wardrobe needed to be accessorized. Donning a double-sided hero cape, carrying his butterfly net, and of course, his now trademark leprechaun-hunting glasses. Preparing to go to the grocery store, hunting the little green men all along the way, his game face is on.
No pot of gold is safe from Ezra.
Color me jealous, in the appropriate shade of green. My child has a way about him, capturing the attention of most adults, as he casually explains his costume’s logic. My outfit? It’s for hunting leprechauns. Luckily, the myth is perpetuated by the kind adults who are accomplices, buying into his game, feeding the narrative.
With his curiosity and propensity for stubbornness, inherited from me, Ezra makes his mind up about something, and it just has to happen. Leprechauns may find sanctuary behind the boxes and cans of the groceries aisles, but if anyone is going to ferret one out, it would be my son. Net in hand, the hunt continues.
Today, I wear a green accidentally, but in accordance with my non-Irish Irish tradition. But I wish I weren’t; I wish I were carrying a butterfly net, wearing really cool sunglasses, and a cape, pursuing leprechauns with the innocence of a child, (and the support of all the adults around me).
What do you think will happen if I try?