I love everything about the Christmas season — the decorations and lights, the cheesy movies, the food (and drinks), the good deeds, and the get-togethers with family and friends. The list goes on. But there is one thing about this time of year that I really hate.
I remember back in 2005, when this phenomenon first hit the stores. “Did you get an Elf on the Shelf yet,” my sister asked.
“No, and I’m not going to,” I replied. Because I thought the idea of having a weird-looking doll spy on us in our home was a little too Chucky-esque.
But by the next year, my then four-year-old had noticed these elves popping up in other people’s houses. “When are we going to get our elf,” she asked, over and over.
And soon her younger brother joined forces. “Can we get an Elf on the Shelf mom?” they pleaded, every time we went anywhere for anything. “When are we getting our elf?”