In keeping with the holiday spirit, I thought I’d share the story of our Christmas elf Charlie. You see, I have two kids. One 11 year old daughter and a 9 year old son. Although most of their friends have started down the path of “Santa isn’t real”, my kids have a very strong belief in our little elf.
It all started three years ago when we got the book, “The Elf on a Shelf.” We read the story and named him Charlie. Since then, Charlie has appeared every year on the day after Thanksgiving. Every night, he disappears only to reappear the next morning, in a new spot in our house that the kids have to locate.
One morning, the kids came downstairs to get ready for school and found Charlie with a note in his hand. Written in very tiny handwriting, Charlie wrote to the kids how happy he was to be their elf. That’s all, but it was enough to make them so happy and give the real author, me, some very sneaky ideas. My theory was, if they think this elf has the direct line to Santa, and he’s started to communicate, maybe I could use those letters to get some more personal messages sent. You could see the wheels turning in my head.
A couple of days later, Charlie had another note. It said, “You are both such wonderful children, yet you keep your room so messy. Perhaps if it were clean, you’d find me in them when you woke in the morning.” By skippy if those kids didn’t run upstairs and spend a big chunk of their Saturday morning getting their rooms clean for Charlie’s visit. He obliged them the next morning. I was so proud of myself, I had to do more. I was mad. Crazy. Dare I say, intoxicated with the overwhelming power I now had at my disposal. Surely, I should use this power for good, even if it was for MY good, it was still good, right?
Over the course of the next month, Charlie had notes every day suggesting to the kids everything from keeping their room clean to not talking back to their elders and even learning to wash their own clothes. It was amazing! This really was a magic Christmas Elf! Oh I’ve simplified the process a bit over the years. I use my word processors smallest script font instead of handwriting it, and I type out several notes at a time so I can just print, cut and roll into very tiny scrolls wrapped in thread.
But wait a minute. Shouldn’t I feel bad about this? I mean, I’m selfishly manipulating my children by feeding on their childish beliefs in order to get them to do extra chores in the house. I’m utilizing a stuffed doll to communicate subliminally that there will be no visit from Santa should these tasks go undone. Am I evil?
What are you nuts…of course I am! Just ask my husband. But when the day comes that they finally learn the truth behind Charlie, they’ll remember it for the rest of their lives and when they are old enough, they’ll do the exact same thing to their kids. After all, apples don’t fall far from the trees.
Aren’t traditions wonderful?
The Rant 