Why We Don't Do Elf On The Shelf

Unless you're living in a cave somewhere in the wilds of Africa (are there caves in the wilds of Africa?), then you've seen the 6.5 million Elf on the Shelf pictures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram . . . Elves hanging out in various questionable positions, circumstances, and situations . . . Elves in toilets (gross!) . . . Elves on ceiling fans . . . Elves playing with barbies . . . Elves doing things that I can't mention on a PG Blog . . . Elves everywhere.

So why don't we do Elf on the Shelf? I mean we do believe in Santa! Hello, the big man is real. But we don't do the Elf for a couple reasons.

One . . . The Elf is freaky, and while, Santa is a big jolly guy with a long white beard, and a stomach that shakes like a bowl full of jelly, and all that jazz, these elves all look like something out of a bad horror movie. Given that we've finally . . . thank the Good Lord above . . . moved out of most of the "I'm scared . . . " stage at bedtime and beyond every. single. night. I really don't want to reintroduce that into our house. I cherish my sleep. I'm just sayin'.

Two . . . And this is even more of a reason . . . I don't want to move that stupid, stinkin' elf every night after Andrew goes to bed. It's too much responsibility and pressure y'all. I can't commit to something that big. It's just not happening.

Andrew has said something once or twice about his friends having elves while he does not . . . poor, pitiful child . . . he is so mistreated. But then my sister-in-law got an elf for his classroom at school. Score! Yes! I don't have to deal with it. Andrew gets an elf at a safe distance, and all is right with the world.

So that, my friends, is why we have no Elf on the Shelf. For all you mamas and daddies who do, more power to you. But good luck finding something interesting for him or her to do each night. You'll be sick of it by Christmas. Just you wait. :)

And please, for the love of my sanity, don't go putting your elf in, near, or even in the general vicinity of the toilet. Please . . .

Oh, and you can just go ahead and call me Scrooge or the Grinch. Take your pick. I'm okay with it.