Introducing Walter

I am still new to this whole parenting thing and, as such, I am very out of touch with many of the popular kid’s trends and customs that other parents have no doubt already been exposed to ad nauseum.  In my previous bachelor life, my only responsibility was to make sure my cat was fed and the cactus was watered, well, every so often; neither of them expected much else.  Life was easy.  But now, holy shit!  With a child around there’s so much more to be aware and on top of.  One such custom is this whole ‘Elf on a Shelf’ phenomenon.

For those of you who have either been living under a rock, or perhaps don’t have kids in the house, let me enlighten you.  Here’s the skinny directly from the website:

The Elf on the Shelf is a special scout elf sent from the North Pole to help Santa Claus manage his naughty and nice lists. When a family adopts an elf and gives it a name, the elf receives its Christmas magic and can fly to the North Pole each night to tell Santa Claus about all of the day’s adventures. Each morning, the elf returns to its family and perches in a different place to watch the fun. Children love to wake up and race around the house looking for their elf each morning.

There are two simple rules that every child knows when it comes to having an elf. First, an elf cannot be touched; Christmas magic is very fragile and if an elf is touched it may lose that magic and be unable to fly back to the North Pole. Second, an elf cannot speak or move while anyone in the house is awake! An elf’s job is to watch and listen.

Walter, the Extortionately Priced Elf

Walter, the Extortionately Priced Elf

Okaaaaaay.

Just what this house needs…another creepy doll.  And, hey, for a whopping $35 a pop, never mind encouraging good behavior, this damn thing had also better make me breakfast in the morning and file my taxes.

So, anyway, HRH  has decided that she wants an elf of her own since the rest of the free world seems to have one.  More correctly, Kelly decided that HRH  actually needed one in an effort to get her to better cooperate in cleaning her room, tidying her desk, and keeping the downstairs play area clutter free.  I can definitely support that I guess as a peaceful, non-argument free household is happy household.  So a plan was put in action.

The first order of business was to send HRH  an official email from Santa via “Santa Mail” from the North Pole indicated his concern regarding her recent stubbornness and poor behavior and suggesting that an elf might in fact be needed.  Yeah, you can thank yours truly for that little nugget (okay, it was really Kelly’s idea but I crafted out the email and perpetrated the whole Santa fraud).  But what I (we) got back in return the next morning I (we) couldn’t have ever prepared myself for in a thousand years.

Email Reply #1“Santa i need to know can an elf kill me”

The fuck?

Email Reply #2“Santa clause I’m scared of an elf on a shelf because i read online that if u have a ouji bord the elf can turn evil and kill u in your sleep.”

Thank you, Internet.

I guess my responding now with Walter’s (our particular elf’s name) past dabbling in the Black Arts, or maybe his affiliation with the KKK would be a bad idea, huh?  As would his being on the recent Black Sabbath tour or being able to recite all the lyrics to Hotel California backwards.  Shit, I could definitely have some fun with this…but I won’t.  Or will I?  Maybe I can take some candid “never before/behind the scenes” shots when the child is safely asleep.  Stay tuned, readers, this is going to get interesting.

God help me.

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