Why I Hope I Never See the Elf on the Self Again.png

Were you around for all the online hype last March? It seemed like a leprechaun went to every house turning milk green, making a hot breakfast, setting out gold scavenger hunts and making a HUGE deal out of March 17th!

Well, there was no leprechaun here. Somehow we muddled through that random day in March without celebrating a holiday that I know nothing about. And by the end of the day, I felt like I failed as a mother. I probably scarred my children for life by not providing green memories on a school/work day. They might have been mocked by all of the other kids at school who had green eggs and ham for breakfast, shamrock shaped braids, and specialty t-shirts.

Here it is, December. The first has come and gone and we still haven’t seen our annual visitor. I’ve heard my son calling out for him, checking nooks and crannies, sure that he’s about to turn up.

He isn’t.

The Elf on the Shelf is not coming this year.

  • I have no idea what the kids named him. One year he was named Scott, but I’m not sure which year that was.
  • His book isn’t awesome. There are a million better Christmas stories.
  • House guests should certainly be aware of how long is too long for visiting. Twenty-five days is WAY too long.
  • The Elf on the Shelf is overly-demanding about when or who should touch him. If the dog wants to nibble an elf foot, who is supposed to stop her?
  • If elves like to move around and try different activities they should come with a man-servant. I don’t care who he is, I want to go to bed when the kids go to bed. I don’t want to stay up playing board games with an elf and Barbie.
  • Speaking of that, why am I always the one to entertain the guest? My husband calls “not it” on November 30th and never goes back on his word.
  • Who is supervising his work? Who’s to say he is really making his reports?
  • Elves should be at the North Pole making gifts, not supplying them all month long with cute notes that surely don’t write themselves.
  • One kid recently joined the “Santa’s Helper” club and there’s no way she can make it a whole month without spilling that Elf’s beans.
  • I lost him. I hid him last Christmas and I have no idea where.

My plea to parents everywhere:

Let the Elf on the Shelf stay in his box. At the store. Far away from your house.

And if you’ve already let the merry gremlin in, Happy Holidays. He owns you.