A few years ago, way back in 2008, we decided that we wanted to start the whole Elf on the Shelf tradition with our girls. Of course, once I saw what the Elf on the Shelf actually looked like, there was no way I was bringing that creepy thing into my house. It would have scared the Christmas spirit right out of my girls.
Yet, I wasn’t ready to completely abandon the idea, just that particular elf. I went on a quest to locate 2 more aesthetically pleasing elves. The girls were 2 and 4 and, let’s be honest, I needed a new bargaining chip. The fat guy threats just weren’t cutting it anymore.
My girls are fairly certain that Santa is like God in the respect that he forgives, but elves? Well, those little bastards can be as vicious as Mommy wants them to be. I like to have one play good cop and the other play bad cop. One always has to be just a little bit more threatening. Those little dudes are Santa’s henchmen; they bust kneecaps and bite ankles.
Our elves (yes, there are 2, one for each girl) are sent via Airmail from the North Pole. You doubt me? Hey, there is postage paid and everything, even teeny tiny holes in the box so that those minuscule Northern mafioso enforcers can breathe. Our elf on a shelf #1 and elf on a shelf #2 arrive with a letter from Santa explaining all.
That year, Analee (that’s the name since “someone’ forgot to remove the tag from the elf) arrived magically, as if out of thin air. One day he was not here and the next, there he sat high in the Christmas tree, watching, waiting to be discovered. Keeping watch over my girls as they shouted and fought.
And then it happened, Gabs made her way to touch her Clara ornament (you know the special one that she is forbidden to touch) and as her eyes rose from the ornament there perched 3/4s of the way up the tree, Analee.
Gabs let out a yelp proclaming that “Analee” was back. I feigned surprise and said hello.
A few days later, I found my then 4-year-old, no less than 15 times, talking to the elf on a shelf explaining that her little sister made her do it and to tell Santa that it was Gabs’ fault. A package arrived in the mail.
The girls saw the brightly decorated box and knew instantly what the package contained. They gently placed it on the floor, in front of the fireplace and peeled the packaging back. Inside, they found a letter from Santa and the jolly smile of “Ed”, sent back by Santa to report for another year of duty in our household.
They love the elves but are afraid to touch them, not even with a ten-foot pole. Well, Bella is anyways. Gabs actually midget tossed poor Ed out of her room on his ear once during a particularly nasty nap-time tantrum.
I was asked to place Ed somewhere because elves don’t run around during day light hours.
Every night, I move the elves to different positions and to different random spots throughout the house; the bathroom (taking a poop, surprise Ed’s watching), eating breakfast (Surprise Analee is in the chair next to you), putting your clothes in the hamper (Be careful you’ll squish Ed), reaching for the milk (oooh, poor Ed is chilly in the fridge. No sneaking candy!), turn on the fireplace (oh no, be careful Analee is getting hot under the collar).
You get the point?
Elf on a shelf my ass, those little suckers are running all over my house. They are roaming free, recording every single scream, yell, hair pull, piss my sister off moment/talk back to my Mommy, fighting my bedtime, not going to eat my asparagus moment that goes down in our house and apparently, so are Santa’s spy cams (the fire alarms).
You better watch out, you better not pout, you better not cry, I’m telling you why, Santa’s sending his henchmen to rat on you.
Do you do Elf on the Shelf or some variation with your children?
Photo Source: The TRUTH about Motherhood