For the past few years in our house, we’ve looked forward to a visit from none other than the “elf on the shelf”. Are you familiar with these little dudes? They are the cash-flowing creation of a freaking genius of a woman, and for $29.95 (plus shipping & handling) these little dolls will fly all the way from the North Pole to your humble abode for the whole month of December. They’re like Santa’s shrimp-sized spies, reporting back to the head honcho each and every night about who’s being good & who’s being a little shit. They are also known as B-R-I-B-E-R-Y for parents at this very stressful time of year.
Our little pointed toe fairy first came to us back in December of 2007. My kids decided to name him Clyde, and for the past two years, old Clyde’s been racking up the frequent flier miles between our house & Santa’s pad. Each morning my kids practically pee their pants with excitement to find out just where Clyde is hiding. You see, night after night, it’s up to the parents to find a new hiding spot for Clyde. And if you forget, you better think fast on your feet, or best believe, you are screwed. Your kids will surely notice that the elf is in the exact same spot as the day before. How do I know this? It’s because I can’t tell you how many times we’ve dropped the ball and have had to suddenly send the short people upstairs so that one of us can scramble around and move the damn elf doll. Luckily, our kids are young enough that we can still pull this whole smoke and mirror tactic on them. We could say, “Look kids, there’s a spaceship on the lawn,” and haul ass to move that little sucker before they would even turn their heads back from the window.
I must say that Clyde and his magical bad ass have more than earned their keep around here. On many occasions, all I’ve had to do is point to his tiny perch, and my kids instantly think twice about what they’re doing. They know that he’s taking mental notes all day long to give the boss all the dirt on them. You gotta love that kind of power. He’s like the eyes and ears for the Don Corleone of all gifts. I can’t decide if I have a crush on him or if I wanna rip his throat out cause I’m jealous of him. Maybe we’ll sort it all out when we go out for drinks next weekend. I hear he’s a lightweight, so maybe I can get him to spill some of his secrets after a few cocktails.
For now, all I know is that that pint-sized pixie better hurry up and get his spy on cause I’m losing my marbles trying to keep these kids of mine in line. All the excitement over the holidays has them bouncing off the freaking walls. My daughter even openly admitted to me last night that “it’s really hard to be good every day.” So, I’m not ashamed to admit that I need all the help I can get throughout these next twenty-five days of craziness. I wish I could talk Clyde into just staying the whole year through, but I don’t think I can really compete with the eleven month vacation the fat man promises him in return for all his hard work.