The naming of the newest Elves.
The cute little stories.
The mischief of the Elf who "forgot" to move overnight.
Because the Elf is the one that does all this shit. Right...
I'm sure it's a cute story and all, and I can honestly say that I've never read it. I have no desire to read this book, and I have even less desire to own an Elf. Or manage an Elf, since they are supposed to be "real" and all, I guess you don't "own" them. Whatever.
It's not just a book with a doll anymore, it's a sensation sweeping the country. There is a movie now too. WHAT??? You don't have an Elf? However do you get your children to behave all December???
Um, with veiled threats, like normal people.
We've taught our kids to believe in Santa, we play along with all the normal expectations. We do the lap sitting and the picture taking and the letter writing. We leave out the milk and cookies. We even leave carrots for the reindeer that we have to buy special from the store with the tops still on them.
I'll be the first to admit that I've threatened to place a call to the North Pole on occasion at this time of the year when the kids were being particularly naughty. I've threatened the kids with rocks, coal and jars of pickles. (my youngest really hates pickles)
I play the hell out of the Santa card.
What I won't do, can't do, refuse to do, is to have my life dictated by a scary little doll.
You've seen the Elf, right? He's a creepy little dude.
You are supposed to move the scary big eyed bastard every night so the kids think he's actually watching them. If that's not enough to give them nightmares, I don't know what is. My kids have always been a little bit weirded out by the fact that Santa gets into the house in the first place. The idea of having a tiny stalker wouldn't sit well, I assure you.
Imagine if the Elf watched us. Shudder.
Even if I wanted an Elf, I'd suck at having one. I'd forget to move the Elf. I know that I don't have the self-discipline to remember that. The kids go to bed, and my job as Mom is done for the day.
I'd be a terrible Elf keeper, and end up throwing him across rooms while distracting the kids half the damn time.
Oh yes, kids, the Elf really did mean to end up in the sink or lodged into the tree upside down. That's where he watches you from. Duh.
My kids are terrible at remembering stuff this time of year anyway. I buy them the stupid chocolate advent calendars, and half the mornings they forget. MY KIDS FORGET TO EAT CHOCOLATE, people. This is not normal. Clearly, they are mine.
We cannot be trusted with an Elf.
Which is fine. I don't want one anyway.
I don't want to make up new stories or take ridiculous posed pictures. I don't want to post about the stinking Elf every day on my Facebook page in an effort to proclaim my superior mom-ness to the rest of the world.
I wrote a little about this last year when people started harassing me about making 118 Christmas tree brownies for school. We all have our own version of overcompensation. We all want to believe that we are kick ass moms for something. We all want to be the best mom at something. I bake, you buy an Elf. I get it. I do. Difference being, I can promise you I'm not moving the brownies around the house every day and taking pictures of them.
You want to buy an Elf and play along, good for you. Post away, tweet away, pin away. Tell us all how awesome
If I got an Elf, chances are I'd be doing more Elf Shaming than Elf Moving.
On second thought, maybe I should get an Elf just to humiliate him.
Creepy little bastard.