This is what happens on St. Patricks day when I'm sick and Paul dresses
himself the kids. We were headed to do nothing more than our weekly grocery shopping, but apparently the holiday spirit took hold. The Brazilians aren't big on St. Patricks day so much so two years of repressed St. Patty's days and he was on fire.
I'd venture to guess it all began last night when he ran out to get Chic-Fil-A after the kids had gone to bed (which we typically avoid because of their hatred infused yet surprisingly delicious chicken sandwich) and the woman at the register asked if he was wearing green. He was, by chance, earning him a free stuffed (with hatred) mini-cow.
I refused to wear green this morning in my half-dead-winter-cold-induced state even though Paul jokingly pulled out a green mini dress and a green maxi skirt that he insisted that I wear, together. I opted for a grey sweatshirt and ripped jeans instead begging anyone that might dare to pinch me when I feel this horrible.
His greatest moment today would probably have to be when the bagger at Trader Joe's told him his outfit was "awesome."
Please note that even though they aren't super visible in the photo, his pants are also green plaid. Wow, just wow.