Ireland? Angry at one of her nephews? Only if he was forgetting Canada in the process.

She nuzzled the top of his head lightly as she pushed her library door open with her other hip. "Aye, supposin' 'tis handy for mass-production, but these were bein' written long 'fore we were havin' that and 'twas bein' the only way to be makin' more."

There weren't any ghosts in Ireland's house, just a couple of leprechauns, a púka, and a few redcaps. The last of which were hiding in a corner on the other side of the room from the books Ireland was needing. "Aye, so we're havin' a returnin' to childhood spell or a shrinkin' spell on our hands. Rememberin' how he was castin' it, by chance?"