A small Christmas tradition has turned into Anna Murray’s annual December regret – and she only has herself to blame.
The Elf on the Shelf arrived at my home around six or seven years ago.
It came in a neat little box, cheery of smile and jaunty of hat, and I thought it would bring a little festive fun during a time when I had to keep a play pen around the Christmas tree to stop small children and animals from scaling it.
I am, of course, an idiot.
Because every year since, my little nemesis in felt and plastic has taken over precious headspace at a critical time of the year.
Where did this elf even come from?
I couldn’t tell you exactly how I procured this elf because I cannot remember a time before he was in my life.
But Google tells me this elfin scourge began around 20 years ago, when a mother and daughter team with Christmas-themed names - Carol Aebersold and Chanda Bell - published their book The Elf on the Shelf, which came complete with an elf in a box.
The book details how the Elf plays hide and seek in people’s homes through December, watching families go about their business before flying back to the North Pole every night to report on who’s been naughty and who’s been nice, like a nosy little snitch.
Do I find that whole story disturbing? Yes.
Have I played into this unsettling scenario and warned my children that the elf was watching them and preparing to report back to Santa? Also, yes.
But what tired parent wouldn’t occasionally outsource discipline to a creepy doll?
Victoria Harris from The Curve explains how to be savvy with spending over the holiday season. (Source: Breakfast)
Competitive creativity
When I first invited this Elf into my home, it really didn’t sound that hard having to come up with new, imaginative poses for him every day for a few weeks.
However, we have already established I am indeed a fool, and there have been evenings where coming up with a fresh scenario for the Elf feels like a step too far.
Thankfully, I live in the age of the internet and can lean on the ideas of the millions of other parents who have also signed up for this Christmas curse. Social media is awash with groups dedicated solely to sharing new ideas for setting up the Elf on the Shelf.
Some of these groups go unashamedly all out with their elves.
I have seen school lunches where the Elf has individually wrapped every item in Christmas paper. I have seen elves scaling bookshelves in elaborate climbing gear, elves in sleighs made from toilet paper and candy canes, and elves in snowball fights with other toys.
I have also seen many an Elf scene set-up that involves flour or glitter or sprinkles – insane situations that require both set-up AND clean-up.
I comfort myself by imagining these groups must be made up of northern hemisphere parents who are stuck inside a dark house every night and need to fill the time somehow.
But still.
I skipped all those and joined groups that promised “simple” Elf on the Shelf ideas. Although I quickly learned that other parents’ definitions of simple were very different to mine.
I mean, how is creating little marshmallow gym equipment for an Elf workout simple, I ask you?
A drain on time and energy
Committing to the Elf on the Shelf can be taxing on time and energy, two things that are in short supply every December, but feel especially scarce in 2024.
There have been a handful of evenings where I have genuinely wanted to throttle myself for starting this business as I think about what to do next with the Elf.
Yet I have still dutifully waited for the children to fall asleep so I can have the Elf turn bananas into minions with a Sharpie, or have the Elf photocopy his butt in the printer, or write notes in “special ink that only children can read”.
Then there are the nights when I have forgotten to do anything with the Elf and only remember either at 3am, when I creep around the house and quietly stuff the Elf into a Barbie van for a party with some of his doll friends, or when I’m making lunches and hear a child say, “Mummy, the Elf didn’t move anywhere last night.”
Ugh.
I know, I know. I’ll be sad when my children are older and become moody teenagers that don’t care about Santa’s tattletale elves or the magic of Christmas.
But when that time does come, I reckon I’ll still feel a small moment of joy as I finally take the Elf off the Shelf and put him and his jaunty little hat straight in the bin.
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