For today’s fun, let’s talk about the Elf on the Shelf.
I hate the Elf on the Shelf. There. I said it. I hate the weird little felt doll with the knowing smile and the creepy eyes. Yes…creepy eyes. Just perfect for watching you…for Santa. Or so they say. That elf is a voyeur. Or the holiday version of Chuckie. I haven’t decided yet.
We were never going to get one. EVER. Because I’m really just not good at following through on the activities of make believe creatures. The evidence of failure speaks for itself:
There was the year I hosted Dysfunctional Family Christmas Eve, and after a full evening of crazy relatives driving me crazier and a couple of shots of tequila, I forgot to eat Santa’s cookies. I told the kids he must not like the store bought kind. Which was foolish, because now I have to bake.
And then there’s the damn Tooth Fairy. My poor children believe that sometimes so many children lose teeth she just can’t make it to your house right away, and sometimes it may take a night (or several) for her to get to you. The reality is that Mom fell asleep watching late night talk shows while folding laundry, packing lunches and signing permission slips simultaneously. And Daddy didn’t have anything smaller than a $20.
And don’t even get me started on the leprechaun. Who the hell started that? Isn’t that a drinking holiday? Why the hell do I have to make footprints and leave chocolate gold coins?
So our house was not going to have some ridiculous doll giving me more to do on what was already a way too busy time of year. Until my children discovered its existence. And some well meaning but stupid teacher read the overpriced book to them at story time. And all the friends started talking about their elves named Cookie or Cutie or Honey or Pie. And then they started talking about all the adorable and humorous things that Cookie and Cutie and Honey and Pie would do. And then my kids realized they DID. NOT. HAVE. AN. ELF. There was hyperventilating. With tears.
So my husband and I went to Barnes and Noble, where I vehemently protested the Elf. And he caved.
This is our Elf on the Shelf. He was $39.99 and came with a book way too long to read at bedtime.
The Elf on the Shelf is a douchebag, and so are the people that market him.
The children named him Crumbs.
I wanted to call him Dog Treat.
Instead, he is more likely to do things like this:
And then there was the time he spent four days doing this:
And then there was this unfortunate incident:
Recently, I have been contemplating having Crumbs do this. Maybe my husband will think I’m nuts and take over…
I truly have not ruled out this one:
Apparently the Elf now has an optional birthday outfit you can purchase. Probably for $39.99. You can also purchase “elf couture” in the form of tacky Christmas sweaters and scarves for way too much money.
Crumbs does not have “elf couture,” nor does he have a birthday outfit. Because he likes Barbie dresses. Of which we have many…that do not cost $39.99.
I would like to thank the Elf on the Shelf’s marketing team. Because coming up with creative and whimsical ideas of where to put him for one month out of the year wasn’t enough. It is only a matter of time before he takes over Halloween. And Easter. And Columbus Day.
Personally, I’m looking forward to Labor Day Elf on the Shelf, as well as Summer Solstice Elf on the Shelf.
See what I mean? The Elf on the Shelf is a douchebag.
You know I’m right.