Terror on the Shelf

Have you heard of Elf on the Shelf?  It's a new Christmas tradition, apparently, where people buy the Elf on the Shelf book, and it comes with a little elf doll that your family names.  Then, everyday between Thanksgiving and Christmas parents place the elf in assorted spots around the house and the children find him-- thinking he got there of his own accord, of course-- but they can't touch him or his magic will go away.  The story, from what I gather, basically says that your elf is a terrifying little spy from Santa who is spending the holiday season on a reconnaissance mission in your house and every night he flies back to the North Pole to report on his findings to Santa himself.  So you better be good.  Or else.

 (photo via)

I'm sure you can tell from my description above that I think Elf on the Shelf is incredibly creepy.  I mean, look at this doll.  Look at his face.  It looks like he's from the Twilight Zone.

I have made these opinions known to Zan.  This was my first mistake.  My mom and I arrived home from Disney World last night, I kissed Zan, unpacked a little, said hello to the cats, wrote a blog post about my Disney highlights, then my mom, Zan, and I went out to dinner.  We arrived home and Zan began to work on his applications, so I decided to take a quick shower before we watched Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas (a real Christmas classic, by the way).

I ventured up the dark staircase alone, entered my room, shut the door, and proceeded to unrobe.  I walked into the bathroom, turned on the lights, shut and locked the door, started the shower water running, and sat down on the toilet seat as I waited for the water to heat up.  I looked over at the roll of toilet paper and nearly had a heart attack-- there, reposing on the roll of toilet paper, laughing behind those soulless eyes, mocking me with his devilish smile, was an Elf on the Shelf!  I've not been so scared in a very long time.  I quickly put on a bath robe, unlocked the door, and ran out of the bathroom and back down the stairs where I berated Zan for bringing one of those things into my house.  He denied all knowledge of the Elf's origins.  Likely story.  In a perverse way though, the fact that he scared the living daylights out of me with an Elf on the Shelf is actually pretty sweet.  Shows he really loves me... or at least that he listens to what I say.

And now that I look at the Elf again, he's kind of cute...

...or maybe I'm just saying that because I'm afraid that if the Elf doesn't like me he'll pull a Talkie Tina and you'll find me dead at the bottom of the stairs one morning.  "I'm Elf on the Shelf... and you'd better be nice to me!"

(Photo found here, but image search "Creepy Elf on the Shelf" photos; there are some great ones.)