Elf on a Shelf and Other Christmas Traditions

Last year, I wrote about Elf on the Shelf twice, sharing the story about how he miraculously found our new home and a story about annoying people who loudly diss Elf on a Shelf in stores, leaving their little shards of pessimism in the hearts of countless children busy just trying to keep their little hands off the merchandise while their parents buy groceries and toiletries at their local big box store.

This year, as the trend of posting one’s Elf on a Shelf moments continues for all with any social media proclivities, I felt no need to break from the herd. So, thus far, my favorite Elf hiding place is this,

hanging upside down from the light fixture above my kitchen sink. Yes, this would be one of the same light fixtures I blogged about in August of 2011, where I asked for advice on what new glass shades to purchase because I kept trying to scrub the tinted “effect” off of them.

Folks, I am the tortoise. I’ll be there in 2015. And yes, I finally stopped trying to scrub off the “effect” that looks to me like dirt on my light fixtures. Like with most things, I no longer care.

This season’s Elf on a Shelf topic of conversation with my younger son, the self-proclaimed non-believer, is what would happen if you totally, totally accidentally touched Elf.

I’ve gotten quite skilled at gasping dramatically and looking stricken whenever he suggests it. I always follow this up with, “Let’s just hope we never have to find out,” and then a moment of silence in which I attempt to look like someone might look if they were actually contemplating this horrific thought.

Sometimes, I feel a tinge of sympathy for my offspring. Predictably, it doesn’t “take.”

As he is his mother’s child, however, he found an interesting way to test this. One day, I came home to find this on my bed frame.

My queries were met only with that wide-eyed look he’s become so adept at mustering and an exaggerated “What?” followed by the sound of his muffled laughter as he ran from the room.

I’m so proud I could burst.

We also followed our tradition of celebrating St. Nicholas Day, doing it early this year because of scheduling conflicts. This ensured complete surprise when the small people came downstairs that morning.

LCB found some solar-powered contraptions for the boys, their immediate malfunction offset, in the purchaser’s mind, by their inexpensive price. Baby-girl was introduced to what the boys call Bakugan for Girls (Zoobles – they come with cute apparel), reportedly the perfect gift for a girl fated to have the majority of her pre-teenage social interactions with two older brothers. (Incidentally, this familial reality is the only explanation that makes sense for why I had to recently explain to her that making little sounds that are reportedly “fake burping sounds” is not, in fact, funny at all. This was a lie of sorts, because when she did it, unlike a certain brother oblivious to all manner of decorum, it was kind of hilarious. She’s such a girlie-girl, and she’s so small, and most importantly, no other people were around.)  

I’m planning a post on Christmas books and one on beachy Christmas ornaments soon, too, once I manage to wrestle these two beasts called Exams I’m Currently Writing off my back. You know you’ve really made it in life when you find yourself spending your Friday evening sitting at your computer trying to formulate mildly humorous and moderately challenging questions about literary devices and participles. At least I can report that I did so while savoring several Brownie Cookies.

 A girl’s gotta have some fun on a Friday night.