The Fest.

It’s Irish Fest weekend! And omg, so important.

Because I have just now returned from the awesome, and am a teensy bit tired (but I have a Celtic cross! And perfume! And a stomachache!), I’m giving you adorable pictures of my very first Irish Fest, twenty years ago. Yes, adorable little eleven-month-old me, rocking out at Irish Fest. With my grandma. And my mommy. Who finally had an Irish girl to dress up.

(I know the scans are terrible, but they’re scans of copies of old pictures- it’s not my fault, really.)

My mom actually made this little outfit, even embroidering my name on a little removable panel. She made the panel removable so that if she had another little girl, she could wear it too. Two years later when it came time for Colleen’s first Irish Fest, she seriously underestimated the amount of work that two toddlers required, and instead of a whole new panel that said “Colleen”, Colleen got a button that said “Colleen” pinned over the “Kath” part.

Second children. They have it so difficult.

I think someone had taken away my Irish Fest baby in this picture. I had a little doll that said “Thank God I’m Irish” that I was clearly enamored with, because I’m playing with it in every other picture from that day). But it’s not in this one, and I look a little bit peeved about something, so I’m guessing that’s it.
Please note the ’80s sunglasses. And the fact that my crazy mother has me in a sweatshirt (also with my name painted on, with little shamrocks, in case someone should catch a glimpse of me and think that I wasn’t Irish enough) in August.
Good times.

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