Sean Gibson's Blog - Posts Tagged "leprechaun-hanukkah"
A Tradition Unlike Any Other
Just because March Madness and the Masters have been canceled due to impending apocalypse doesn’t mean we need to forego sacred springtime rituals.
A year ago, my son, who was five at the time, came home from school very excited at the prospect of catching a leprechaun on St. Patrick’s Day. He’d heard all about them in school, how they lived at the end of a rainbow, had a pot of gold, and so on, and so forth. He’d even learned a trick or two about luring them into a trap.
My daughter, who was three at the time, was all in favor of her big brother’s plan to go leprechaun hunting. Problem was, though, that she just couldn’t remember that big, huge word. Leprechaun—that’s a vocabularic nightmare for a tiny tyke. So, she decided to substitute the only other three-syllable word she could think of: Hanukkah.
And so a grand new tradition was born.
We spent a merry time that day chasing the Hanukkah in hopes of capturing the pot of latkes hidden at the end of his menorah. And no, when the sun set and the day was done, we hadn’t found one—alas. But, we sure had a lot of fun.
Hope, even in the midst of a pandemic, springs eternal. I’ll be back out there tomorrow, beating the bushes to find one of those little bastards and eat his delicious potato pancakes.
I hope you, your loved ones, and your friends can still find some joy in life (with appropriate social distancing, of course). Stay safe out there, my friends, and never let go of the wonder and absurdity that makes life magical.
Slainte, and shalom.
A year ago, my son, who was five at the time, came home from school very excited at the prospect of catching a leprechaun on St. Patrick’s Day. He’d heard all about them in school, how they lived at the end of a rainbow, had a pot of gold, and so on, and so forth. He’d even learned a trick or two about luring them into a trap.
My daughter, who was three at the time, was all in favor of her big brother’s plan to go leprechaun hunting. Problem was, though, that she just couldn’t remember that big, huge word. Leprechaun—that’s a vocabularic nightmare for a tiny tyke. So, she decided to substitute the only other three-syllable word she could think of: Hanukkah.
And so a grand new tradition was born.
We spent a merry time that day chasing the Hanukkah in hopes of capturing the pot of latkes hidden at the end of his menorah. And no, when the sun set and the day was done, we hadn’t found one—alas. But, we sure had a lot of fun.
Hope, even in the midst of a pandemic, springs eternal. I’ll be back out there tomorrow, beating the bushes to find one of those little bastards and eat his delicious potato pancakes.
I hope you, your loved ones, and your friends can still find some joy in life (with appropriate social distancing, of course). Stay safe out there, my friends, and never let go of the wonder and absurdity that makes life magical.
Slainte, and shalom.
