The Elf on the Shelf ... Still

We all know how it works. A few weeks before Christmas, a cute little elf shows up at the house. He sits on the shelf, lounges by the windowsill, keeping an eye on things. Then, at night, while everyone sleeps, he flies back to the North Pole, gives a full report to the big guy, then gets back to the house to assume a new position.  

We’ve had some elves for the past three years, only not the store-bought kind, some old guys who belonged to my father-in-law when he was a kid.It's fun, stashing them in different places, all the shenanigans and mischief as we build up to the big day. But then, later, after all the presents are opened, the elf heads home. 

And that's what happened, until...

This past Christmas, we were out shopping a few days after the holiday, spending some of that gift card goodness when Simon spotted an Elf on the Shelf near the counter. A um, name brand one, in the box, with the book. It was on sale, half off. So we figured, why not?

Let me tell you why not. 

This elf—the one my son named Triskit—was declared a pet elf. Wanna know a fun little secret about pet elves? They never go away. Nope, they stick around all jolly year 'round, just a bouncing through the house night after night. You never know where old Triskit might be hiding, so your kid has to leap out of bed everyday—and I mean e-v-e-r-y-d-a-y, at six thirty or seven, even on a Sunday and hunt him down.

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing cuter than watching him wander through the house in pajamas, donning his punkrock bedhead hair, searching for this elf. What's not cute, is remembering to get out of bed in the middle of the night to hide the little freeloader. Every. Single. Night. 

Old Triskit is living it up. He's got his own pajamas, a sleeping bag. I’ve even put in a little shelf in my kid’s closet. Believe me when I tell you Triskit has it good for an elf.

I’m not sure how long it will go on. Valentines Day? St. Patty's Day? Halloween? 

In all seriousness, it's not that bad. And I can tell he's not fully buying this elf business, I think he just like’s to pretend. Sometimes he’ll come out of the bathroom, eyes wide, arms out, and say, “Dad, look where Triskit is hiding.”

And I do. I want to know. Because even as I joke, it’s fine with me. One day my kid will grow out of all this stuff. Or maybe he won’t and things will be downright weird. 

I'll keep you posted.