Brian Adams of Andover, Mass., is a UNH alumnus originally from Londonderry. He was previously a sketch comedy writing instructor and staff writer at ImprovBoston and a founding contributor to satirical online newspaper Recyculus. He is a father to three girls ages 6 and under.

As I write this, I’m sitting on a small black couch with some strangers in a warehouse filled with dozens of interconnected trampolines, ziplines, and three gigantic slides that funnel into the biggest ball pit you’ve ever seen. By my best estimate, it is currently populated by every single child in New Hampshire aged 12 and under.

It is called Fun City and, to the children, it is aptly named. To some parents, though, the moniker might sound sarcastic. Somewhere among this mass of pre-teen humanity is my oldest daughter, who is a kindergartener, and the girl whose birthday she’s celebrating. In today’s choose-your-own-adventure parenting game, I’ve selected this option, while my wife is home with our two-year-old twin girls.

On my way out the door, my wife said, “Don’t forget, we need to make a plan for St. Patrick’s Day.”

Previously, St. Patrick’s Day did not necessitate a plan. It was a nice day for people to wear green, drink anywhere between one and one dozen pints of Guinness, and belt out their best off-key rendition of The Wild Rover. Apparently, those days are no, nay, never, no more.

Last year, we were blindsided by St. Patrick’s Day. I mean, we knew it was coming, we just didn’t know what a thing it had become.

“I can’t wait to see how the leprechauns decorate our house tomorrow!” our oldest daughter exclaimed, as my wife and I immediately shot looks at each other.

“By the way,” she followed up, “where should we put the leprechaun trap so we can get his gold coins?”

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It was a lot to process. It was March 16th, just moments before bedtime.

“I thought the leprechaun traps were just something they did at school,” I whisper-yelled to my wife, Kim.

Kim hopped on social media right away. “Oh no, everyone is posting pictures of their leprechaun traps,” she immediately relayed back to me, with her hand shielding her mouth.

“We can’t wait to see what the leprechaun does either!” Kim and I explained, smiling broadly in an Oscar-worthy performance. Thanks to some green food coloring and some solid improvisation, Alexandra was not disappointed when she came downstairs the next morning. It made me wonder, though, how had it gotten this way?

As I look at the parents around me at Fun City, some sitting in massage chairs with distant stares, exhausted from a long week of activities, others frantically chasing toddlers to ensure their safety, I realize just how many parents there are who would truly do anything to help make their children happy. It’s nice to live in a community of so many people who care so much about the future generation.

But could it be one of these very parents surrounding me who keeps adding one tradition upon another for all of us to follow, sometimes creating holidays where there were none and other times stacking new traditions upon old for holidays we already celebrate? Surely it’s not the children themselves who are coming up with this stuff. Are we parents all just gluttons for punishment, willingly piling more and more items on our never-ending to-do lists? It’s an easy trap to fall into, I suppose. If following two or three holiday traditions is fun, imagine how fun it would be to follow ten or twelve!

Keeping up with the Joneses has always been a temptation, but the age of social media has taken it to a new level. Now parents can see in real time where they are falling short. Or at least where they think they’re falling short. If you find yourself concerned that you’re not doing enough for your little ones, you should know that the very act of thinking about your children and wondering how you might go about bringing them joy is a sign that you’re doing just fine.

It seems that I’ll be constructing leprechaun traps every year until my youngest daughters begin to roll their eyes at that suggestion, but that’s just me. Once you have finished whatever traditions you choose to follow on this particular St. Patrick’s Day, raise a glass in your own honor. Your children are lucky to have you. Just go easy on the Guinness, because someone’s got to drive the minivan to soccer practice and it’s not going to be the leprechauns.