A few years back, during a casual phone conversation, my mother nonchalantly mentioned, “Oh, by the way, I’ve sent you something in the mail. You should get it later this week. Have you heard of the Elf on the Shelf? All the kids in my preschool class are talking about their elves.”
As a preschool teacher, my mother often had the inside scoop on the latest holiday trends long before I did, especially during my sleep-deprived parenting years. Whenever a hot toy was about to hit the shelves or a new movie was set to release, she would either take my kids to see it or send me thoughtful care packages to keep my mom game strong. I appreciated it—most of the time.
However, when it comes to the little red menace known as Herbie Ralph, the Elf on the Shelf who moved in with us five years ago, my feelings are decidedly less warm. I blame my mother for this annual torment. Sorry, not sorry, Mom.
I absolutely despise that little felt troublemaker. Each year, as the holiday season approaches, I brace myself for the 24 days of moving that little elf around our house, trying to convince my kids that his creepy, plastic smile has been darting back and forth to the North Pole overnight. Seriously, my kids are that gullible—and I know yours are too. They buy into the whole charade completely, which baffles me. When one of them inevitably asks, “I wonder when Herbie will be back?” as soon as the leaves begin to change, I shudder, knowing I must start brainstorming ways to make that mischievous little elf appear busy with festive antics.
Admittedly, I start off each season with the best intentions because, let’s face it: my kids absolutely love coming downstairs to find Herbie in various silly scenarios, whether he’s being held captive by Lego figures or engaged in an epic snowball fight with our tree ornaments. (Shut up, I’m sure you’ve done worse). I want to savor the magic of their belief in Santa while it lasts, knowing that it will soon fade and my heart will ache on Christmas morning when they no longer believe.
But managing all of this elf-related chaos is a colossal task. So, to shed some light on my descent into Elf on the Shelf madness, here’s a glimpse into my month with Herbie, a captain’s log of sorts detailing my slow descent into holiday chaos.
November 29
Ugh, where did I hide that red menace again?
December 1
Herbie made his grand entrance with much excitement. The note from Santa brought cheers from the kids, who behaved well, knowing their elf was watching with his unsettling grin.
December 2
Herbie was found playing Legos with a stuffed reindeer. Kids were thrilled.
December 3
Herbie was spotted building an igloo from cotton balls. Thank you, Pinterest, for saving my sanity.
December 4
Herbie’s flour “snow angels” on the counter were a hit. Note to self: flour is a nightmare to clean up. Herbie is on thin ice.
December 5
Herbie is perched in the Christmas tree. He fits right in next to the ornaments!
December 6 to 8
Herbie remains in the tree. Suck it, kids.
December 11
Wine consumed. Herbie forgotten. There’s always tomorrow.
December 12
Wails from the children—Herbie forgot to return from the North Pole again. Kids are not pleased. Herbie keeps flashing that creepy smile.
December 13
Herbie was found in a basket near the fireplace. Is it a coincidence he’s so close to the flames? Burn, you little felt fiend, burn.
December 16
Heard that Sally’s elf brought tickets to Disney World on its last trip. Note to self: confront Sally’s mom at the next PTA meeting.
December 17
Kids were shocked to discover Herbie under the minivan. No explanation provided. He kind of deserved it, honestly. Morale is low.
December 18
Herbie is back in the Christmas tree. Again. Anyone who complains loses a present.
December 19
Heard that Jack’s elf brought plane tickets for a trip to a Caribbean island on Christmas Eve. Kids are unhappy with Herbie’s mere candy cane delivery. Note to self: sabotage Jack’s house while they’re gone.
December 21
Herbie must go. Plan: blame it on the dog.
December 23
Tipsy from too much eggnog at Hubby’s holiday party. Considered tossing Herbie in the trash.
December 25
Hooray! Santa arrived! Collapsed into a heap amidst wrapping paper and toys that are a nightmare to unpack. Herbie is watching me—creepy.
December 26
Return the little felt menace to the North Pole where he belongs. Offer up a prayer that next year will be the year kids no longer expect this annoying red elf to visit.
As much as I loathe pretending that a creepy elf has the power to travel to and from the North Pole with nothing but a dash of magic, I’m just biding my time. Someday, I’ll be able to say during a phone call to one of my kids, “By the way, I sent you something in the mail. It’ll arrive Friday.” And sweet revenge will finally be mine.
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In summary, while the Elf on the Shelf brings joy to many families, for some, it becomes an annual burden filled with chaos and creative stress. Ultimately, I’m counting down the days until I can retire our little elf once and for all.