Let’s talk about the Elf on the Shelf, shall we?

 A few years ago, a whole new trend hit my Mama radar.  A super cute little guy, all dressed in red, that came with a book and symbolized all that was right about the holidays:  fun, hijinks, selective honesty, morals, the sweet naiveté of childhood.  Yep, I raced right into the local bookstore and forked over the over-priced charge for my seat on the bandwagon.

That’s how they get you… the promise of a little piece of the excitement that can only come when you’re young enough to believe the unbelievable.

The girls named him Robert.  Yes, it could’ve been something creative or significant (Lala or Snitch or Creepy Stalker with the cold stare); but my girls went for boring and basic.  If only their expectations for the little elf were the same.

It seemed so simple at first.  Move the little thing every night after they go to sleep.  They believe he visits Santa to report how good they are.  Bingo, Bango… pleasant children….”extra” presents from Santa.

You think… oh, it’s just a new tradition, a sweet thing they’ll mention in your long, heartfelt eulogy.  No.  Tradition is turkey on Thanksgiving or baskets on Easter – not pulling all of your brain cells together at 4 in the morning to remember where you’ve hidden the stupid thing the last 22 days because heaven forbid he shows up in the same place twice.  Tradition is the salad my grandma always made for me on special occasions.  It is not the annual dreading that, while unpacking our holiday decorations, I’ll accidentally open the box with the elf shoved in it and have to explain to my distraught children that Robert prefers hibernating for eleven months out of the year rather than baking cookies with Mrs. Claus.  And, tradition is certainly not accusing your sweet children of the absolute no-no (laying a finger on the magical sprite) because you forgot to move the darn thing before they woke up extra early on a Tuesday.  I like my guilt trips spur of the moment, thank you very much.

Look, as a mama, I accept that some traditions are less than ideal.  Yes, Santa gets some credit for gifts I scraped together loose change to buy.  Sure, a giant bunny came through and hid the baskets I stayed up all night arranging just so.  And, ok, a miniscule fairy alights on your pillow instead of your exhausted mama who had to hold her breath rather than screaming in pain when she stepped on the abandoned Lego on your floor.  Traditions – I get it.  However, this Elf on the Shelf has gone too far.

And, whatever you do, do not… I repeat DO NOT fall into the trap of ridiculousness that is being laid by the Wonder Women on Pinterest.  No, our Robert doesn’t make snow angels on my counter in sugar or have pool parties with Barbie all over my kitchen table.  Because, excuse me Super Mommies, but if we are teaching the children to follow the rules here:  it starts with you.  So, no my elf can’t be bathing in marshmallows in the bathroom sink.  Because rule #1 is no touchy the elfy.  And, I’d like my children to brush their teeth so that we don’t put the Tooth Fairy out of business.  Also, I’m no fan of bugs; so, I refuse to leave powdered sugar out on my counter for 24 hours… or 48 if I forget to clean it up and move on to the next ridiculously crafty position.  Personally, I am convinced that the creators of these high brow elf tricks are non-child bearing evil dictators who just laugh and laugh at the real world imitators’ vain attempts at their mind blowing feats.

Look, the holiday season is overflowing with opportunities to amaze your kids.  Build the supertallest snowman the world has ever seen.  Make so many mountains of cookies that no one could possibly scale them.  Go from three packages to a gazillion while they sleep Christmas Eve night.  Heck, buy the darn elf and move him from one mundane spot to the next each time you stumble upon him.  Just don’t make one more reason to stress traditional.

Oh, and please don’t let your kids find the Santa wrapping paper in the storage closet…. Or blame it on the elf.