I have somehow managed to make it almost two decades into parenthood without facing one of the most difficult questions of our time: Mommy, why don’t we have an Elf on the Shelf?
If you’re not familiar with this recent cult phenomenon, a growing number of people play this game of placing a stuffed troll out in a Santa hat around the house for the purpose of gauging a child’s Naughty or Niceness and reporting back to the Big Man. Each morning the Elf must be put into a new, clever pose or you have failed at life and destroyed a childhood. The oldest of our four children was well past the age of NSA Elfness when this was invented in 2005, so this little yuletide poltergeist has not been incorporated into our holiday traditions. I am reluctant to say the least to introduce him now. We’ve been doing just fine with Santa himself knowing if we’ve been sleeping, knowing when we’re awake. He’s the first to know if we’ve been bad—or good—so we are good for goodness sake! I don’t know if we need an elfin tattletale middleman to achieve this.
Don’t get me wrong, I am as big of a holiday mascot cheerleader as you’ll find. I’ve fallen for the Shoe Trick of St. Nick. We get visits by the Easter Rabbit with So Much Candy I want to Stabbit. Fireworks Bam from Uncle Sam and much against my Will, there’s Punxsutawney Phil and I’m that Sap Who Sets Leprechaun Traps on St. Patrick’s Day. And despite being Stupid, I buy Candy from Cupid. I’m the Queen of Halloween and if I have any change to Spare-y, multiple times a year we will see the Tooth Fairy. And of course, I am a Santa Claus with Many Flaws.
That’s a lot for a mother to keep up with.
I just don’t think it’s fair to add one more holiday responsibility EVERY DAY FROM THANKSGIVING TO CHRISTMAS EVE of someone who drinks Wine from a Stein and Gin from a Bin. I’m the mother that turns in school Permission Slips After the Trips with so much Junk in the Trunk that the Cookies for the Troop Have Turned to Soup. I frequently commit Birthday Party Tardies and Lack A Soccer Snack. They Tire of the Uniform Still in the Dryer, so by the time Elf relocation time arrived every day I’m sure my Head would Still be in Bed Full of Dread.
So please, I beg No more Holiday Lore in a Drawer.
Please Forgive all the Bluster and with all of the Holiday Cheer I Can Muster (and I’ll probably be Sorry I Cussed Her): Elf on the Shelf, go &@^%^ yourself.
©2014 Tracey Henry