My daughter has been wanting an “elf,” just like all her buddies. I was utterly clueless as to what this elf is/does. So, I called some other mommies, they enlightened me.
My daughter has wanted anelfSO BAD. She has written to Santa politely requesting andelf. She has made a BED for him. She has BIG PLANS to show theelfthe wonders of Her World.
I searched high and low for ANY $%&*elfthat could take up residence in our home and do mischief. You’d think I could find a $%&#elf.
There are shelves full of santas. Shelves full of angels. Shelves full of snowmen. But no $&%$ elves.
A savvy girlfriend clued me in and steered me towards Celebrations. I stomped in there and grumpily demanded “Do you have a $%&$elf?” The ladies laughed knowingly and said yes, they still had a few $%&# elves left and presented me with a box.
OMIGAWSH. How lucky was I???? And actual “Elfon the Shelf” boxed set. I never expected such a find this late in the game. I was fully prepared to wing it with any oldelf I could find. But I only have a few years of this wonderful innocence left, and was glad to shell out THIRTY DOLLARS for the $%&#elf.
I snuck it in the house. My husband and I discussed and strategized how to deploy the $%&#elf. He magically turned up while we were decorating the Christmas tree with the kids.
Our daughter excitedly sat down and read the BOOK. I mean, how LUCKY were we to get a BOOK?
DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE BOOK SAYS????? You are not to TOUCH theelf! My poor child immediately dissolved into a sobbing puddle of tears, such was her disappointment at being unable to touch the $%&#elf. She LOVES the #$%&@elf! She wants to CARRY the $%&#elf! She wants to SLEEP WITH the $%@&elf!
Crying! Huge sobs,giantears! While we are supposed to be the Happy Family decorating the tree!
Sigh. And so…. another letter was duly dispatched to Santa. Could she PLEASE touch the $&^&*elf? Hold it? Hug it? Sleep with it? Santa quickly replied, holding and hugging is OK, no co-sleeping, as it will interfere with the %^&#elf’s ability to return to the North Pole each night. And also it’s ability, by the way, to wreak havoc on my home and KEEP UP WITH ALL THE OTHER $%&$ ELVES in the creativity and magnitude of it’s mischief.
Merry $%&# Christmas.
When she's not chauffeuring over-scheduled children or procrastinating about the housework, Pam can be found scratching her head in her garden, making a giant mess in her kitchen, channeling her inner redneck, or sneaking off for a bubble bath with a fat novel. Her monotonous adventures are chronicled in painful detail here.