Every holiday has its fluff. Easter has the eggs and bunny, Halloween has costumes and candy, and Fourth of July has barbecues and fireworks. Christmas has the most fluff of them all. So, naturally, people start drinking haterade and talking crazy about the newest evils contrived in the name of Santa and his minions. Like this article and this article that keep popping up in my social media.
There he is. The innocent Elf on the Shelf. He didn’t ask to be pulled into a political battle of Mom squads. It is just like our generation of parents to go to extremes on this simple crap. You must stand on one of two sides – Team Pinterest Elf or Team Burn the Elf. Your elf can bake Goddamn cakes out of his own candy cane poop at midnight, or you can take to social media and demand this poor elf burn in Hellfire. Clearly, we all have taken this a little too far and ruined what was a cute idea and fun activity for our kids by projecting our own crap onto it. Our generation of parents is literally the worst. Calm down, people!
The elf is called “The Elf on the SHELF“. All it needs to do is move around your house and sit somewhere. It provides an explanation to your 5-year-old on how Santa can keep an eye on every child in the world. The elf doesn’t need to take hostages. It doesn’t need to host parties with all its doll friends. It doesn’t need to go fishing for goldfish crackers. It certainly can if mom has a clever imagination and 10 extra minutes before bed, but – GOD ALMIGHTY – it does not have to!
I think it is funny when somebody tells me they don’t have time for the elf. I hate when people make excuses for their own laziness. It is not a time-consuming endeavor. I promise. How hard is it to move an elf from a shelf in the kitchen to a table top in the living room once the kids go to bed? I’ll tell you….
NOT HARD AT ALL. I even manage to do it in under 30 seconds on my way to the laundry room with a basket full of laundry. (Now is the moment where I will be accepting my mom of the year award. Seriously. I moved the elf ANNNDD did a load of laundry. I deserve an award.)
My girls (ages 3 and 5) are not afraid of the elf. In fact, they look forward to her arrival. They start asking about her after Thanksgiving, and on the day she arrives from the North Pole (December 1st) the excitement in our house is palpable. They jump out of bed every morning and run around the house looking for her new spot. When they find her, they squeal with delight and come tearing around the corner to tell me where she is. It is all fun and games over here. I don’t know where there are Nazi elves scaring the pants off children, but it isn’t in this house. My kids are not threatened with impending Christmas morning doom if the elf happens to witness a naughty moment, anymore than I was during my childhood Christmastime.
A version of the elf was around when we were growing up. You still had to “be good” for Santa. Remember when we were kids and sang “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” at every school Christmas show we ever starred in? I’ll refresh your memory. The lyrics say,
“He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when your awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!”
OH! So you doooo remember! We were fed the same crap as children. Instead of having an elf visit our house, we were told an old man used Christmas magic to watch all the children in the world. So why weren’t our parents calling in outrage for the lyrics to be edited?! Why didn’t they come to the realization that Santa is probably a pedophile that needs to be stopped!? I mean, who watches kids in their sleep and makes them sing songs about it?! Our entire generation is screwed up now, and it is all because our parents didn’t care enough to take away the magic of Christmas. They let us believe Santa was watching us. And now here we all are. One big generation of the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse. <—–(See what I did there? I went Clark Giswold on you guys. You’re welcome!)
I don’t remember feeling violated by Santa or his elves as a child. I only remember that magical feeling of Christmas filling the house with every day we counted closer to Christmas eve. I remember fighting to stay awake to see Santa and staring out the window until my eyes watered, looking for the red dot that was Rudolph’s nose steering the sleigh towards my house. I remember waking up and trampling down the stairs with my brothers to see if Santa had come on Christmas morning. I also remember when I found out for certain that the actual man “Santa Claus” did not really exist. I knew I was too old to believe in him, but I was secretly mad at my mom after she confirmed what the kids said at school to be true. Santa wasn’t real. Going into that Christmas, I thought it was all over. Christmas was going to be just another day now. Nothing special or magical.
Turns out I was wrong. I watched my little brothers truly believing in the magic as they ripped into their gifts. I learned the rewarding feeling of giving through Santa Claus. Christmas magic and Santa still totally exist for me today. I love seeing my extended family, exchanging presents, making Christmas cookies, decorating the house and singing Christmas music. I love creating the magic for my own children. I put my heart and soul into it. I make my holiday season all about my kids.
That might rub some people the wrong way, but too bad! I have about 5 more years (at least…hopefully!) that both of my kids can truly believe in something magical, and I am not about to waste it by making excuses and whining about the miseries of finding a new spot to plop our elf. I am going to milk these years for all that they are worth. If it means I stay up late a few nights, then fine! It’s worth it to me.
My kids have the rest of their lives to worry about the financial strain and mass commercialization of the holidays. I can definitely wait a few more years before introducing them to the grim details of the way our society works, and until then, I would like their childhood Christmases to be as spectacular as I can personally make them. They are imaginative, creative, mischievous, wonderful little girls who deserve it. They love that little elf, so I am going to keep moving her to a new spot each night and continue to welcome her into our house each year. I know that one year, all too soon, December 1st is going to come around without the excitement and squeals that usually accompany our elf’s arrival. Then I’ll set her on a shelf to watch over us, and teach my girls the real, grown-up magic of Christmas.
Still hate Elf on a Shelf?
Happy holidays, everybody!
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