A Happy Goodbye!

I am so looking forward to Christmas Eve this year for a not so obvious reason. Those drive-me-insane-what-am-I-going-to-do-with-them-tonight elves are history, and I could not be happier.

Lucinda and Zippy

I decided to jump on the elf bandwagon when my twins were four. That makes four years of figuring out what to do with these little bastards cuties.

They arrived November 28, 2014. The book was read, the children named them (Zippy and Lucinda 🤷🏻♀️), and my husband and I the elves got their “magic.” What a pain in my a$$ these little creatures have become.

They have ziplined through the kitchen, taken a bubble (marshmallow) bath, pooped a Hershey’s kiss, fished in the toilet, played Checkers, and even came in like a wrecking ball on Christmas ornaments. My children laughed for no longer than 15 seconds and that was that. I questioned myself every night, “Why am I doing this?!” Pure craziness. My children never talked about the elves or their shenanigans – until we went somewhere, that is.

Elf Overachievers

We’ve heard it all. Elves who took all the ornaments off the Christmas tree, wrote on mirrors with toothpaste, wrapped Christmas trees in toilet paper, made snow angels in sugar, and, my personal favorite, froze themselves inside a cup because they’re from the North Pole. All followed by, “The kids loved it!” Of course they did – for less than 30 seconds.

My children questioned why our elves aren’t as fun. They’re better behaved, that’s why. But, Mom! Listen, these magic little suckers are not the offspring of David Copperfield. They do not know how to clean up a mess. I am not redecorating a tree, scrubbing dried toothpaste off a mirror, or cleaning up a pile of white sugar before the ants get in it. As for freezing them, logical thinking tells me they just might want to be warm after being at the North Pole. See?! We end up talking about these things like they’re people. Insanity, I tell you.

Then there’s the 30-minute cry fest on Christmas Eve because they’re leaving for a year and “we’ll miss them.” Really?! You cannot touch them, you’ve looked at them once a day (for less than 30 seconds), and never once mentioned wondering what they’re going to do tomorrow.

The Time has Come

Christmas Eve, these little assholes elves go as far North as they can – my attic. Never to be seen again until my children have children. (Yes, there’s a joyful hidden meaning in that picture!)

I will advise them, and those of you contemplating the elf thing to go for it, but do exactly what the box says and LEAVE THE ELF ON A SHELF! You’ll thank me later.

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