That moment occurred that every parent dreads. When your kid was told by some kid who was told by another kid whose older brother told her that Santa is not real. That magical belief in Kris Kringle, the writing of letters to the North Pole. All of it is now over. With it, we lose our innocent child who will soon become a “tweenager.” And of course, I am thinking that if the kids are talking about Santa being not real, what else are they talking about? For me, my daughter growing up makes me feel like I am facing rapids in a poorly designed cardboard canoe and only now realized that I forgot to make the cardboard paddle.
On one hand, I have to be happy that the six years of daily moving that damned “Elf on a Shelf” around the house are over.
In our house we actually had two of them, as for one year, the elf was lost in the Halloween decorations out in the garage. I have to admit there was always something a bit creepy about the elf and the whole notion that it would be sitting there staring at Aine and reporting to Santa, has a Stalin-Esque feel to it.
But it didn’t stop there, the elf also looked at me. And I was the only person home during the day, so it was even a bit more unnerving to walk into a room and see that elf, staring, with a bit of a smile on its face. Sure, I did move it to its perch on the refrigerator that morning, but I am not too sure it was me who crossed its arms and legs. As days went by, the elf seemed to become more active. I started putting it on places like windowsills, with it staring out the window to avoid its penetrating glare. I would enter the room from another direction and, yep, that damn elf was now looking at me again. I would look at our dog Capers to see if by chance she something had to do with it. But she would only look at me with that “I am a dog” look and leave the room.
So yes, I admit the elf was never really lost. I put the elf in the Halloween decorations. It sat there with the porcelain skeleton, the assorted ghosts, zombies and a green witch face painted on a big old gourd. It seemed perfectly happy and at home when I put the lid down on it and slid the carton back onto the shelf. I placed another carton on top for good measure. When I left the garage, I swore I heard some thumping. I assumed it had to be a mouse.
A day of the elf not being around alarmed Aine. She worried that the elf was ratting on her to Santa. She shared this fear with Annie. I in the meantime had gone to play a show in Iowa. Annie quickly purchased a second elf. I came back a day later and was startled to see that the elf had returned. It had its smile on its face as usual and seemed its old benign self. Except during the day, when I would be working at my desk and glance up at it. The eyebrows would be furrowed, and it would have one round hand pointing at me as it had no fingers. I knew it was accusing me of trying to lock it away.
Once Christmas came and its role was no longer needed, I quickly packed that elf in with ornament boxes. When Halloween came around, I had to stealthily move that elf in the Halloween carton into the Christmas carton with its compatriot. Now both elves were staring at me. And when the time came to open that carton to start decorating, they were locked arm in arm. I realized that there was no escaping this seasonal nightmare. With two of them I had to move one on one day and replace it with the other elf the next day. I was a slave to their whims. It seemed that the closer it got to Christmas, the wider their smiles were when looking at me, inexplicably placed on top of my laptop, or in the bathroom. How it got into the shower, I will never know. I still look over my shoulder and shudder.
Until this year. When Aine confessed that she was told by a kid who was told by a kid who was told by a kid whose brother told her that all this Santa stuff wasn’t real. Now, the power has been broken. They sit on a shelf, but this time in the basement closet. I will donate them next year for the Christmas Bazaar at our church. There, they can be picked up by some unwitting parent. They will place that elf on a shelf, refrigerator, washing machine, windowsill, light fixture to convince their kid that Santa is real, and the elf is St. Nick's eyes and ears.
But we all know that Santa isn’t real.
Right?
READ MARTIN'S OTHER STORY HERE!