When Gracie was just learning to talk, saying "Patrick" properly was simply out of the question. Instead, she started calling him "Pat-Pat." Now, even though she is capable of saying Patrick, she still insists on calling him Pat-Pat. As in: "Mommy, where's Pat-Pat?" or "Daddy, Pat-Pat just jumped off the dining room table."

Since yesterday way St. Patrick's Day, we decided to call the grandparents and have the kids wish them a Happy St. Patrick's Day. The Tierney grandparents were obviously out properly celebrating their Irish heritage (even though Mrs. Tierney soiled my children's pristine bloodline with German ancestry, she still claims to be mostly Irish), so we had to leave them a message. Gracie was the first to go. She wished her "Gamma and Bampa" (as she pronounces them) a very Happy St. Patrick's Day. "Happy St. Pat-Pat's Day Gamma and Bampa! I wuv you bye!" She really believes that yesterday was a holiday invented for her brother, and not for the Catholic missionary who not only drove the snakes from the Emerald Isle, but also drove the Celtic religion out of the natives. I know, however, that if St. Patrick's Day was celebrated in honor of my little Patrick, the traditional meal would be McDonald's Chicken Nuggets and root beer, and not corned beef and cabbage with a pint of Guinness.

Emma finished the message by singing two important Irish ballads: "It's St. Patrick's Day Today" and the ever-popular "Eensy-Weensy Leprechaun," which is sung at all proper Irish funerals, right after the rousing rendition of "Danny Boy."

We ended the celebrations of the day by feeding the kids horrible Peanut Butter and Jelly waffles we got from Target (no wonder they were on clearance!) while Tom and I ate some tasty corned beef and cabbage. The kids were complaining about the smell, and honestly, I can't blame them, but it was sooo good. I had to make brownies to act as an air freshener (it was a terribly unselfish act on my part, as I dislike brownies. Yeah, right.).

Speaking of the brownies... When Tom came down to feed the kids breakfast this morning, three brownies were missing from the pan. Patrick and Emma swear that they did not eat any, and Gracie was the only one with telltale brownie crumbs all over her little face, so it's possible that she ate all three by herself. She's a funny little stinker.

Well, the pipes, um, I mean the kids, are calling, so I need to run. Have a great weekend!