It’s the weekend after Thanksgiving and parents all over America are wondering about one thing…”where did we put that elf?”
Several years ago we “adopted” our first scout elf. At first I thought it was a novel idea. I had great plans for creative poses and fun scenes for our elf, Dawna. With Pinterest driving my creativity, I have accomplished some really creative and intricate elf adventures.
Two years ago we decided to throw another elf into the mix. Buddy the Elf and Dawna come out right after Thanksgiving to wreak havoc in our home. They have repelled from the dining room table light over to the bar. They have done their best ballet poses, fell asleep in kleenex boxes and even grew candy canes once.
Each year my husband and I can’t wait to come up with bigger and better things to do with these elves. That sentiment lasts for about two weeks. Then we start to slip a little. A few times we have woken up in a panic because SOMEONE forgot to move the elves. This sparks a sprint to the living room, hopefully before our son wakes up, so we can attempt to move them. It becomes a covert operation carried out in swift silence. Once our son beat us out to go find the elves. I was right behind him hoping he didn’t notice them sitting in the same spot. I shoved my little boy out of the way and slapped poor Buddy across his smarmy elf face. He collapsed over onto his side, looking like a drunk frat boy after a long night of partying. (had I actually thought ahead, I would’ve put a red solo cup next to him)
Indy in his pjs rubbing his groggy eyes, “Mom, Buddy didn’t really move. He’s sleeping. Did he get back to the North Pole last night?”
“I’m sure he did, Indy. Look at him, he’s obviously exhausted,” I thought that my witty explanation was pretty good. But then I started to contemplate just how creepy this whole scout elf thing really is.
As if threatening kids with coal in their stockings wasn’t enough, now parents need back up in the form of a cheap doll with a shady smile on it’s face. Each night, our kids go to bed wondering if the elves saw them sneak a treat, smear toothpaste on the mirror or poke the cat with a light saber. I wonder if it freaks them out because the more I think about it, the more it freaks ME out. How many times have we threatened the kids with “you had better watch it, the elves can see you”? How often have they talked back to us then looked over to see Dawna giving them that steely glare?
Sure, getting creative with scout elves is fun. But behind the fun is a darker side that people rarely talk about. If your kid touches that elf, it looses its magic and it can’t get back to the North Pole to report the goings on. In short, your kid has effectively paralyzed the elf…almost killing it. There it will sit, collecting dust, until the powers that be decide the elf can come back to life. It’s morbid.
The holidays aren’t supposed to be scary. But then again, I guess a jolly stranger breaking and entering while you sleep, eating your food and letting his reindeer munch on your hedges isn’t that comforting either. My son was worried tonight when we lit a fire in our fireplace. He was genuinely concerned that Santa would be burned to a crisp if he decided to come to our house early. Yikes. It took several times of explaining that Santa has never visited the burn ward as a patient. Our son was still skeptical as he made his way to his room.
With all of the hustle and bustle of the season, now we have given them one more thing to stress out about. A lingering fear that the elf will see something displeasing and tell Santa to move their name to the naughty list. They can’t get away from it either. Throw a fit in Target because mom won’t buy you the 10 pound Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup? Watch it kid, there is a whole display of elves watching you.
And yet, we won’t stop putting the elves out. Now it’s a tradition that, for the most part, the kids really enjoy. It’s one more tool to help us out with getting the kids to clean their rooms, do their chores or eat at least one bite of broccoli at dinner. We will keep trying to find fun things for our elves to do and maybe they’ll get into some elf shenanigans that doesn’t require massive clean up on our end.
Meanwhile, I look up and there they are hanging out on the corners of the tv. Watching. Judging. Taking mental notes. I wonder if they will tell Santa that we use extremely colorful language. Or maybe they’ll tell the big guy that we watch some really horrid “reality” television shows. Or…*gasp*…that we wait until the kids go to bed and then bust out the candy. I’m sure they’re talking and I’m sure that we will probably find some lumps of disappointment in our stockings on Christmas morning.
