Am I a Hobbit?
Three years ago, when Micah was in grade 3, he was giving me a hard time about whichever particular way I was choosing to celebrate St. Patrick's Day that year.
For several years I went through a green food phase.
I stopped that when the children refused to eat their Cream of Wheat porridge. No amount of convincing would persuade them that it was only coloured green. It still tasted the same.
When the green food colouring was out, I began cooking my way through my International Cookbook.
We've had all manner of "Irish" cuisine, from the Stew to Slumgulleon and Corned Beef Hash.
Anyway, this particular year Micah was giving me the gears.
I came back with something like, Well, I'll bet you're the only kid in grade three whose mother is a leprechaun!
He stopped in his little verbal tracks, gazed at me with eyes full of wonder and awe and said, Really!?
I laughed at him, said, No not really. I'm really a Hobbit.
"... what is a hobbit? I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be fat in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it)."
So, am I a hobbit?
You be the judge!