Starting in 2016, Jen will be visiting us every other month (alternating with our Go-to-Gay), so she's taking a break in January and will be back in February.
Not On My Shelf, You Elf!
Last year, someone – ahem, my mother – thought it would be a brilliant idea to buy my daughter, Gracie, an Elf On the Shelf for Christmas. There he was, in a box under the tinseled Christmas tree, all decked out in his red long-johned glory. Just the memory makes me shudder. And not only did I want to roll my eyes, but I also wanted to know what it would look like if I helicopter tossed (Imagine throwing your golf club, Frisbee style, after too many swings and misses … you got it!) that bad boy into the cornfield that bordered my parents’ subdivision. Before you relegate me to the naughty list, please allow me to explain.
I haven’t gone humbuggy or grinchy when it comes to Christmas holiday cheer, so never fear! My heart has not shrunk three sizes, nor am I making sure Santa stuffs my stocking with coal this year. I pass zero judgment on homes that house this elf over the holidays. The honest truth is I cannot have one more thing to be beholden to in my life, and that includes a mischievous elf. The glorified assistant to the jolly man with the long, white beard isn’t someone I have time to entertain or babysit, for that matter.
|Photo credit: Stephanie Bossung|
He’s just plain naughty! I mean, have you seen all the rotten things he does splashed across social media? From making snow angels in mounds of flour on kitchen countertops, to performing totally inappropriate acts with a toothbrush, this is a little dude who needs to be immediately enrolled in military academy. I already have three children to keep an eye on. This elf requires an extreme level of supervision that I can’t muster at this juncture. Turn your back for a brief moment, and he’s getting funky with the hot coco mix. His antics? They’re too much to handle.
One little caveat. This little guy wasn’t my gift. He was my daughter’s. She saw him under the tree, hugged and kissed her grandma, and thanked her profusely and that’s the way the cookie crumbles, isn’t it? As Christmas morning elapsed, we gathered our treasures preparing to return to our home. Gracie collected her new toys, trinkets, and whatnots and took them to the car. I noticed out of the corner of my eye her little elf remained under the tree. “Gracie, you forgot your elf!” I reminded her. She then gave me the universal “Shh…” sign, her finger to her lips, eyes wide.
Once in the car, I said, “Gracie why did you shush me about the elf?”
“Mom, that little guy is a creeper! He stares at you all day memorizing everything you do. And he’s a Santa snitch, too! Why would I ever want something like that in my house? It’s just wrong,” she lectured.
And as Paul Harvey coined, that my dear CLC friends is the rest of the story. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, happiest of holidays, and nothing but peace and joy in 2016.
|Photo credit: Stephanie Bossung|
Jen Tucker is the author of the funny and true stories, The Day I Wore My Panties Inside Out and The Day I Lost My Shaker of Salt. In September 2012, she had her children's book, Little Pumpkin published as an e-book. She also blogs monthly for Survival for Blondes. She currently lives in Indiana with her husband, three kids and two dogs. You can find her at Twitter, Facebook, her blog and on her website. And in case you missed them. check out her previous Chick Lit Cheerleader posts here.