Elf On My Shelf

Last year, my mom introduced the small people to Elf on the Shelf. As I found out, we are probably the last people on earth to have heard of Elf on the Shelf, but in case there’s one more of you out there, Elf is a little creature (with his own book, if you are interested) that Santa sends to a child’s home in the days and weeks preceding Christmas. Each night, while the child is sleeping, Elf returns to the North Pole to report on the child’s behavior, and then returns to the home the next morning, picking a new perch in the house each day.

This year, the younger two small people were worried over whether or not Elf would find our new home. Our third grader, the oldest, assumed his disinterested stance (you know, the one where the face reveals nothing but the ears are keenly attuned to all discourse on the subject of his disinterest) about the whole thing, but the younger two children readily voiced their concerns.

Last year, Elf showed up around Thanksgiving, so when the week of Thanksgiving rolled around this year, the younger two began extensive conversations about when and where he’d show up. They knew we were traveling back to the old house for Thanksgiving, so there was some hope that we’d meet up with Elf at the old house, where he’d naturally first look to find us. “And maybe,” I postulated, “he’ll hitch a ride back to the new house on the roof of the minivan.” You could see my younger son digesting this idea carefully, despite the fact that he’s informed us that he knows that Elf is not real.

Okay then.

So when Elf showed up deep in the branches of a palm-like tree in our living room on Thanksgiving Day, the younger two children squealed with delight.

Then, Sunday afternoon, with Elf firmly wedged face-forward in between our living room blinds, effectively mooning the beach, my son and daughter got concerned. “What if Elf doesn’t find our new house?” they asked. We discussed the three possible ways he could join us: by sneaking in a suitcase, by flying, or by the aforementioned riding atop the minivan.

“Well, it’s not like he’s real anyway,” offered my younger son, most unconvincingly.

And indeed, as we were loading the van to leave, I caught him climbing on top of the minivan, to check for Elf.

Thrice.

Fortunately, Elf managed to follow us to the new house, where we found him waiting for us in one of the windows.

Really, it’s almost uncanny how he does that.

Not that I believe, of course.