We get it. Everybody loves a selfie but you, my friend, have taken things a bit too far. Starting December 1, and every. single. one of the 24 days leading up to Christmas, my social media feeds are absolutely littered with shots of your creepy mug engaged in your oh-so whimsical antics bringing premature joy to children everywhere, and it needs to be said that you’re stepping on a few toes here.
As a parent of young kids, I get 364 days a year at the grindstone, whiny kids hanging off my legs while I prepare a supper that no one will eat, stepping on cheerios in stocking feet, running around like a chicken with my head cut off meeting toileting needs, folding laundry and making sure no one electrocutes themselves. It’s a thankless job, but one day a year, ONE DAY, I get to do something that makes it all worth it…
Every year on Christmas Day, I make MAGIC! I watch the adorable sleepy faces of my children transform as the sleep dust drifts from their eyes and they realize the day is finally here! I, myself, am transported into the wonder and awe of the season as we rush out to the Christmas tree with shouts of ‘Santa came!’ ‘Presents!’ and ‘It’s CHRISTMAS!’ I relish every moment of that deep dark winter morning when all of us, in our jammies, put aside the troubles of the everyday in favour of attending to the things in life that matter most. By the twinkling lights of our tree and to the tune of timeless carols, we revel in the MAGIC that it has taken me the better part of two months to conjure. And, Eddie, I will thank you NOT to mess with that.
Let me explain a few things about magic.
One. It’s all about the anticipation. If you ever been to a magic show, Eddie, you’ll notice that the magician doesn’t just saw the pretty lady in half the second the curtain opens. He has to prance her around all beautiful and whole-looking first to the tune of some pump-up music and make a big production of the whole thing. He does this with one purpose in mind—to elicit a feeling of anticipation in the audience.
Well, December is a lot like that magic show. To achieve maximum magical impact on December 25th, one must spend the 24 days prior engaging in anticipation-building preparatory activities. For parents, this might mean things like listening ad-nauseum to the more annoying of holiday tunes, adding a sacrificial 5 pounds worth of kid-friendly baking to their waistlines or twice daily vacuuming up pine needles that fall when little hands disturb the Christmas tree. Manufacturing this type of anticipation is a delicate and, at times, unpleasant job, so perhaps you’ll appreciate that it’s a bit of a slap in the face when, in the midst of one’s efforts, a little gnome like you comes along and BAM, saws the lady in half, so-to-speak, straightaway on December 1st.
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Here’s how it goes down:
December 1st – Facebook pic posted by Karen: Eddie the Elf making a snow angel in some icing sugar coupled with an adorable picture of Karen’s daughter with an ‘O’ perfectly formed on her lips. (MAGICAL!)
December 2nd – Karen’s Instagram Story: Elf on the Shelf nestled cozily into child’s backpack with the caption, “Look who wants to go to school today!” (MAGIC.)
December 6th – Picture on Snapchat of Eddie squatting and taking a Hershey’s kiss crap on Karen’s kitchen table. (Hilarious. 10 POINTS)
December 10th – Another of Karen’s Facebook posts: Picture entitled ‘I’m watching you…’ with Eddie draped from a chandelier. (Uh? CREEPY)
December 11th – Karen notices a mysterious decline in her social media following. (Hmmm)
December 12th – Karen’s Twitter post: Eddie the Elf posing with voluptuous friends in Barbie Dream car. (#NobodyGivesAShit #EddieTheElfKillingChristmasMagicCirca2013 #YourKidsDon’tCare)
December 25th – After a needlessly stressful four weeks and too many glasses of wine on Christmas Eve, Karen surfaces around noon and realizes she’s forgotten to wrap the Hatchimal. (Ooops)
It’s TOO. MUCH.
Now, it’s a free country and Karen should be free to kill Christmas magic prematurely if she so chooses, but her choice does have some unfortunate consequences for those of us hoping to delay the gratification until the 25th. Things like, “But Mommy, Amy (Karen’s daughter) has a magical elf? Why don’t we have an elf? Are we on the naughty list?” Can you answer that one, Eddie?
So respectfully, if you insist on making your gangly presence a yearly occurrence, would you mind keeping it on the DL? Or better yet, go back to the North Pole where you came from. Don’t you have some kind of work you should be doing at this time of year anyway?
A Concerned Parent