A leprechaun has given us fits for years. Recently the dirty trickster hid my wife’s coffee cup. Worse yet, when she puts a mini–Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup on the counter, he steals it when she looks away.
The other day the green demon hid my coffee cup. And all this time I thought he preferred girls.
We’re buying Lucky Charms the next time we shop. They’re magically delicious and help leprechauns be less malicious.
At lunch today my wife noticed a tiny gnat buzzing my food. I told her that’s surprising because leprechauns attract gnats. “I knew you were the leprechaun,” she said.
“Well, that explains everything,” I said.
“How so?” she asked innocently.
I explained that leprechauns possess people. He forces me to do mischief in my sleep.
Blame is a beautiful thing.
The power of Blame:
Blame is a magical force that preserves the illusion of personal virtue. Lose your keys? The leprechaun did it. Gossip? The leprechaun made me do it.
Blame nurtures comfort. Why change when you can blame?
Eat too much? The restaurant served portions too large. I’m not gaining weight. My wife shrank my jeans.
Blame keeps relationships strong. Forget an anniversary? A leprechaun deleted my calendar reminder.
Responsibility builds character. But blame spins stories, and stories are self-affirming joy. Thank goodness for leprechauns.
What subtle forms of blame hold people back?
How does playfulness enhance life?
