You’ve probably heard of Elf on the Shelf. If not, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but...
It's the dumbest freaking thing ever invented.
The Elf on the Shelf is a tradition that has become synonymous with Christmas in households across America and beyond. He flies around from room to room (he can fly!), reading stories and making mischief as he goes. He also keeps track of children’s behavior each day, reporting back to Santa at night whether or not they have been naughty or nice—which may lead some parents to worry about their children being tagged as “naughty" on Christmas morning when their kids haven’t even opened their presents yet!
Except...you're the one doing all that.
But for me, when I finally made the decision to buy one, it was out of the kindness of my heart.
I felt like I wasn't doing enough to make Christmas special. I was lacking something. Maybe it was my effort? My slowly-fading joy of the holiday season that is slipping away from me each and every year? I wasn't sure, but maybe it would even make ME feel better about the holidays.
"Why the hell not?" I asked myself.
And quite frankly, we started off great!
I was remembering to move this stupid thing around, I was leaving funny notes. I was even noticing that my children were buying into the whole "He's watching us" thing.
Damn, I'm freaking killing it! I can keep this up for a few more weeks, no problem.
Until we went to Defcon 1.
One night, my youngest daughter woke up crying with a nightmare, terrified that the elf was going to come to eat her for dinner.
She looked at me with wide eyes as if I could make everything better by just saying the right thing.
"The Elf can't hurt you," I told her. "It's just pretend."
But she wanted no part of it. She was crying and shaking, so we did what any parent would do in this situation: I let her try to sleep in bed with me.
No results.
Then we tried reading The Polar Express together—but even that didn't help calm her down!
I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. My efforts to make the holidays just a little more special for my children have turned into another parenting nightmare (no pun intended).
So, long story short, I decided to get rid of the stupid thing.
It's funny to me because the biggest gripe that I tend to see from Elf on the Shelf is the maintenance that is required of it. You constantly have to be moving him around, making up stories, and doing whatever it takes to keep the magic that he embodies alive. It's fitting that after I do everything correctly, my daughter is terrified that he's going to come and eat her for dinner.
The whole point of Elf on the Shelf is to make our kids behave so that they will finally earn the ultimate reward - Santa Claus!
Yeah yeah, great. The concept is perfect.
My execution? Lacking.
But now, I just enjoy hating the damn thing. I mean, I can't have one in my house, so screw him. Give me all the memes.
Due to my experience with my daughter, it's now the stress that is triggered by my daughter's horrible night and proceeding bad week that makes me hate him more than anything.
I mean, this thing SCARRED her. I can't keep elves anywhere around the house.
Elf movie? Nope.
Any scene that involves little elves making toys for Santa? CLOSE YOUR EYES!
And even then, I just realized we're adding to the already stressful time of Christmas. I don't mean to sound like a Grinch, but I just want to be able to enjoy the holiday season with my family. If that means no Elf on the Shelf, then so be it.
It's like a pyramid scheme for Christmas where your kid gets a toy in exchange for good behavior, just taken even further. It's like we're adding an FBI agent to do Santa surveillance in our household. PASS.
So at the end of the day, if you enjoy that dumb little elf, more power to you.
Just know I'm laughing at you, not with you.