Thanksgiving is just a hop-skip-and-a-dozen-peeled-potatoes away. Which can mean only one thing – Elf on the Shelf time is upon us.
What is Elf on the Shelf you might ask?
He’s the newest Christmas tradition. As the story goes – which is detailed in the book that arrives with your elf – he arrives on the day after Thanksgiving, and watches over the household to make sure everyone’s behaving themselves and staying on the nice list. Basically, he’s a minion of Santa, and reports back to the big guy.
This is the hook for the parents. Does your kid talk smack or scribble on the walls with a Sharpie? All you have to do is turn to the elf, shrug helplessly, and say you hope Santa is a forgiving sort of a guy, because new DSi’s don’t just find their own way under the tree.
It works even better than informing the munchkins that you have Santa as a contact, and if they don’t stop whatever bad things they are doing, you are are sending him a text RIGHT NOW.
The bad news? Every night, your elf flits off to the North Pole, makes his report, and then returns to your home.
How do you know he’s left and come back?
He moves. Every single night. From Thanksgiving until Christmas.
Even if you’re just about to fall asleep. And have an early morning. Or have overindulged in egg nog. Or if you sprained your ankle trimming the tree after having overindulged in egg nog.
It doesn’t matter. The damn elf still has to move.
This in itself would be just a minor pain in the ass. The elf can move from one book shelf to another, or, perch on a lamp, or sit on top of the television (where he watches you with those creepy, creepy eyes).
No, the problem is with other mothers.
You know the kind. The annoyingly competitive mothers. The ones who aren’t content to have their elves plop down on a shelf, slumping to one side.
Oh, no no no.
That would be too easy. And that would put them on the same footing as other, lesser mothers, which the Competitive Mother can obviously not allow to happen. Especially after she went to all that trouble with the cloth diapers, and the organic vegetables, and the banning of television and war weapons from her home.
Competitive mothers have to have fun elves! Naughty elves! Elves who cause mischief and mayhem!
These mothers delight in creating tableaus with their elves.
But they don’t stop there. They’re so committed to this elf shit that they’ll happily mess up their own freaking houses at the busiest time of the year, just to prove how superior they are.
These women are the reason I avoid the PTA.