While at Target the other day – and let’s face it, I’m there a lot – we wandered past a display of evil-eyed little men.
“Look, Mama! It’s the Elf on a Shelf!” Joseph jumped up and down in his excitement.
“Oh?” I asked casually, trying to pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Yes! He comes to your house and watches you and then tells Santa if you’ve been good or bad.”
“How do you know all this?” I was impressed.
“Benny has one and he gets into so much mischief! Can we get one too?”
I’ve been avoiding the Elf on the Shelf for a variety of reasons. First, I can barely remember to change the laundry, let alone move the elf and I have a sneaky suspicion the kids would notice if the elf started to collect dust. Just looking at all the blog posts is enough to make my mind spin out of control.
Second, I have a hard enough time keeping all the magical elements of childhood straight without the addition of the stalker elf. One more and this confusing web might snare me in a verbal trap. If I mess up, then I’ll have to remember for years to come exactly which story goes with which character and Lord knows I can barely keep them straight now. We already have Santa, the tooth fairy, leprechauns, the Easter bunny, the Switch Witch, and fairies of the garden variety.
“Well, I think you have to get a letter from Santa to see if the elf can come visit,” I told him, thinking fast.
“I hope we get that letter!” Joseph’s eyes sparkled.
I don’t, but I think I’ll keep that to myself and congratulate myself on dodging an elfy bullet.