Ok. Fine. I bought one. I hate buying into all these Christmastime shenanigans and tomfooleries (I forgot “hijinks”) but it is SO HARD not to!
So now we have an Elf on the Shelf. His name is Edward. My daughter named him, and don’t even think that I persuaded her to choose that name because I am obsessed with Eddie Vedder because I didn’t. (And it’s not 1994 so I really wouldn’t call it an “obsession” – let’s agree to “extreme appreciation” and call it a day.)
So for real: once you start with the Santa business it just kind of all snow balls from there (pun intended). Telling your children about Santa is one of those things that you don’t really realize how crazy it is until you have to explain it to your child. Why have we all been carrying on with this craziness for so long anyway?
“Yes, children of mine: A very large man sneaks into our house at night – while we are all asleep – and leaves us presents. And eats our cookies.”
“How does he get in, you ask? He, um, comes down the chimney… except we have a gas fireplace so he, um, uses, um… magic?”
“Oh, and, by the way, this year Santa sent an ‘elf’ to *watch* you. It goes back to Santa at night, and when you wake up in the morning, it could be anywhere. Good night.”
Parents be crazy, yo.
It is kind of fun to create a magical story for children, but is it really necessary? I think the Santa thing stuck around our culture to coax kids into behaving (yes, I am aware of Coca-Cola’s involvement. I have Nerd TV, too). So then my guess is the ole “Elf on the Shelf” thing started gaining popularity because the Santa thing wasn’t enough to keep the kiddos in line. So, WHY DID I BUY ONE??? My children are well behaved! My behavior makes NO sense!
Crap! I hate it when I do stuff like that. Stupid peer pressure never goes away.
Next thing you know, I’ll be trying to convince them that a small, furry animal left them some chocolate, or that some winged creature takes their teeth…