A little visitor arrived at our house a couple of weeks ago. Yes it’s that time of year again and the Elf on the Shelf has arrived. Over the past couple of years she, (I say she as our elf is a girl called Pixie) has become as much a part of Christmas as Santa Claus.
From reading posts on Facebook it would seem everyone knows about the phenomenon which is, ‘Elf on the Shelf’. To be honest our family have come late to the party as we only heard of it last year. And let me tell you there’s quite a bit of commitment to hosting one of Santa’s little helpers.
For anyone out there who isn’t familiar with Elf on the Shelf, it is a little scout elf which arrives in your home before Christmas to keep an eye on those naughty or nice kids. Each night the elf flies back to the North Pole to report to Santa Claus about the children’s behaviour. The next morning the elf returns to rest in a new and different place in your home. Children then have the fun of trying to find out its new position.
Believe me this is a serious business and it takes a little bit of planning!
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve woken in the middle of the night to realize I’ve forgotten to move Pixie. I have to drag myself out of a warm bed to find her a new resting place. Who knew Christmas would become so complicated?
Last year we thought it would be great craic if Pixie wrote a note to our daughter every night. Of course it had to be in teeny tiny writing because an elf has teeny tiny hands. Our older daughter volunteered herself for this task but after three weeks she soon became sick to the eye teeth of writing to an elf every night! And then the task fell to me! So if I wasn’t moving an elf around in the middle of the night, I was writing notes to her at 2am.
And Pixie isn’t that well-behaved herself. She has made huge inroads into the big box of teacakes I was keeping for Christmas. Four layers of biscuits and apparently Pixie has ate her way down to the last layer!
This is the last year for Santa to come to our house. Another door closes and it only seems like yesterday I was starting out with my family. So many Christmases have come and gone, all the planning and presents, making sure Santa brought everyone what they wanted. I hate to see the magic of believing in Santa leave our house.
We are lucky this year in that my eleven year old daughter truly believes in Santa Claus. As I write this she is tracking him on Google Maps. Last time I looked he was in Fiji!
I want to hold on to her belief for as long as I can. I’m reluctant to tell her the truth but by summer I will have to. She transfers to secondary school next September and I can’t let her into the pit of precocious teenagers still believing in Santa.
Of course, Christmas will still come next year with all of the glitz and glitter but it won’t be the same. A little bit of the shine will have been lost.
So I’m not going to complain about dragging myself out of bed at 2am ; this is the stuff memories are made of and I’m going to miss these crazy antics next year!