It was March 2020, and the world was spinning in a direction no one expected with the escalating Covid-19 pandemic. As a school administrator, I had spent the day with my admin teammates navigating a maze of ever-changing health policies, supporting nervous students and staff, while also calming parents who were worried about their children’s education. Then, late in the morning, a shutdown was announced in our county. We were ordered to close school immediately and go home until further notice. I knew it was going to be a long road ahead.
As I drove home, I thought of the uncertain days to come. I stopped at the local grocery store to grab a few items for my family to help get us through the shutdown. To my surprise, I arrived at the store to a chaotic scene. The shelves were mostly bare, stripped of toilet paper, milk, and canned goods. People quickly moved through the aisles, pushing carts filled with anything they could grab, a far cry from the calm store that I was used to shopping in. I managed to find some corned beef, which was in abundance due to the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day holiday. Other than the corned beef, I grabbed what I could as I moved quickly through the store while also trying to fight off a sudden feeling of anxiety from the chaotic scene. I was only able to grab a few essentials, a bag of pasta, a couple of frozen dinners, and whatever produce was left. I then made my way to the long checkout line full of people finding creative ways to cover their faces while standing far apart from one another.
When I finally made it home, my wife and our two daughters, were waiting for me at the door. I gave my wife a kiss as I set down the groceries and then I noticed that our girls’ looked concerned. The weight of the world seemed to hang over them, even though they were only in elementary school. The house felt quieter than usual at that moment, as if the whole neighborhood had slowed down. My wife and I gave the girls big hugs to comfort them.
My youngest daughter, looked up at me with concerned eyes and asked, “Dad… What are we going to do?”
I paused, unsure of how to answer. “I’m not sure yet, girls, but we will get through the shutdown.”
She seemed to process this for a moment, and looked a little confused. Then, in a way that only a 7-year-old can, she asked, “No, I meant… What are we going to do about our leprechaun trap for St. Patrick’s Day?”
I blinked, surprised, and then smiled. The weight of the world felt lighter suddenly. Here we were, in the middle of a global crisis, and my daughter’s main concern was a leprechaun trap for St. Patrick’s Day.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to get creative,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “Let’s make the best trap we can.”
That night, the four of us sat on the living room floor and got to work on our leprechaun trap using random supplies that we gathered from around the house. We built the trap, laughing as we made our silly creation that brought our family comfort during a stressful time. We made it together, and in that moment, the world outside seemed a little less heavy.
In a time of uncertainty and fear, the simple act of building a leprechaun trap with my wife and daughters helped put things in perspective. No matter how tough the road ahead was, we had each other. And in that moment, that was all that mattered.
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