It’s all gone Irish in the O’Donnell household. Duh. Actually St Patrick’s Day doesn’t get the attention you would expect considering the Irish connection, the man of the house having the patron saints name and most recently, our newest adventure, a purchase of a house in Ireland. I did however try for a little acknowledgement in the form of what I thought was a particularly amusing set of novelty glasses which he dutifully wore down the pub this evening where he headed with gusto for the customary Guinness with a side order of Arsenal football.

Funny enough, earlier today it was our 4 year old who decided the day was worth more credit than it was getting. To be fair, apart from the glasses I didn’t really do anything else. My usually crafty self who likes any excuse to decorate stuff was otherwise engaged with cleaning and packing.

“It’s Father’s Day today!” she announced, sending my brain into a brief and temporary spin as I was sure it was just Mother’s Day the other day.

“No, it’s not.” I corrected her, while scrubbing some particularly stubborn something-that-shall-not-be-named off the floor.

“Yes, it IS,” she stubbornly said again, while deciding that the reason I was actually on all fours was not the need to make the floor pristine once more, but obviously it was time to play Princesses and Ponies. I’m always the blasted pony.

“It’s Patrick’s Day!” she continued. “Giddy UP!”

“GETTOFF!!” I yelled.

“Actually, It’s Saint Patrick’s Day darling,” I continued on in a less get-the-hell-off-me tone, “And your Dad is no saint…”

“Yes, he IS!!”

I sighed. This wasn’t going to be an argument I was going to win and I do try not to make a habit of having full blown arguments with the child…

“OK, yes, Daddy is a Saint,” I conceded.

She paused, picked herself up off the couch where I – the pony – had unceremoniously dumped her,  and walked out of the room muttering “I TOLD you it was Father’s Day…”

Happy St Patrick’s Day