Maybe it’s a good thing Elf on the Shelf didn’t become popular while my boys were young. The commercialized book and accompanying toy elf has sent perfectly sane Mothers across the country into crazed, creative overdrive, as they devise elaborate plans for the Elf to trick and surprise the children in their house with daily elfish antics.
Moms report that one morning, the little sprite has spilled cereal all over the floor. Ha —ha, naughty Elf! Another day brings squeals of laughter when they see the impish guy has strewn toilet paper all over the sunroom, while keeping a mindful eye on the tots and reporting back to Santa anyone who needs to be moved to the “naughty” list. But won’t the children start to wonder how someone who’s so bad, has the authority to tattle-tell on anyone else? Hey, Elf, Let ye who is without sin cast the first gumdrop.
I prefer my Grandmother’s heirloom (hand-me-down) Retro-Elf, which has for decades, perched quietly in our Christmas tree or potted plant, and calmly minded his manners while grasping his knees to his skinny chest. That’s the kind of elf I admire – the strong, silent type who gives you a look like he can see right into your soul, tells no one what he’s seen, and steers clear of mischievous pranks.
I’m torn by how I would have handled this new disruptive Elf on the Shelf because on one hand, I’m all for being an overachieving creative Mom, but on the other hand, I don’t like being forced to wreck my own house on a daily basis from December 1st — 24th.
The fun Super-Mom side of me, let my boys find a fluff of cotton caught in the front door, which was a sure sign the Easter Bunny had made a quick getaway from our Beagle. All my cookies were homemade, as were the Halloween costumes. The Tooth Fairy left behind a tiny trail of pixie dust, the Birthday Fairy hung streamers in their rooms and somehow, Santa at The Grand Hotel, always managed to know specific details about their lives that no one else could possibly have known.
And lest you think I forgot the minor holidays, the Groundhog’s Day snack was a little dish of Teddy Graham cookies, which looked an awful lot like the shadowy mammal, and a groundhog puppet would tuck them into bed while singing a little Groundhog’s Day song. It was loads of fun and totally worth any future therapy bills we may incur.
But the Practical-Mom side of me thinks the daily hijinks of this new Elf on the Shelf at the busiest time of the year has gone a bit too far, and for me, the, “Queen of Over- Do- It,” that’s saying a lot.
The custom outfits and props you can (must) buy for your Elf, and entire year-round web sites devoted to ideas on how to make your Elf super-duper naughty and cutesy are too much to take. One Mom ripped open her sofa pillow and scattered feathers around the room so her darlings would find their elf in the middle of a pillow fight. Did no one grab this woman and tell her she had lost her ever-lovin’ mind? “Darlin’! You’re tearing up your own $90 pillows from Dillards! Snap out of it!”
If I ever awake to find there’s a big-eyed goofy-faced Elf in my house who has scribbled in my books, filled my sink with marshmallows, or made snow angels on the kitchen counter with a bag of flour, that’s the day I’d turn him into a dog toy. And if Santa had a problem with that, I’m sure Retro-Elf would back me up all the way.