He scares our four year old little girl - make that - terrifies. From the minute he showed up with his big maniacal grin, she began looking over her shoulder in fear that he would haunt her. The elf added a whole new element of nighttime insanity with simply getting her to stay in her bed. A thousand times a night now, we have to reassure her that he is NOT going to show up in her room while she sleeps. He's watching...always watching...
This brings me to the second reason. I'm sure for every other family, the fact that they have their very own personal Santa connection must work wonders. Children across America must be sitting and reading books, coloring pictures and doing devotions. In our house? Ummmm, no. For whatever reason, the elf makes all three of our boys crazy...like psycho crazy. They run around the house doing Ninja flips from couch to couch as if they have a new audience. As they giggle and laugh they yell, "Hey! Watch THIS!" then throw a football across the living room while our four year old daughter runs around frantically screaming, "Make him go away!"
This begins early. Ridiculously early. The third reason I would like to touch the elf is because we haven't slept past 6:00 in the morning since he arrived. This wouldn't be so bad if we hadn't already been up half the night with our little girl, so as you can see, Mr. Elf is giving it to us on both ends. Evidently from now until Christmas morning, we will no longer need the use of an alarm. Like clockwork, a massive herd of elephants burst through our house at o' dark thirty as the boys trample from room to room looking for him. Sure enough, when they find him, a series of maddening screams echo through the house, announcing his new location. At this point, with a pillow over my head, I would like to throw a steak knife at him...where ever he is.
That leads to the most obvious reason. Location. There's nothing worse than the maternal guilt that builds as facebook post after post of elves, happily sit in their baths of marshmallows or cheerfully zip line across the room. As I see the other lucky elves covered in flour or drinking hot chocolate, I depressingly gaze at our sad little elf who is lucky enough to even find a different place to hide each night. That's usually after we remember around 3:00 am that he needs to come "back".
The final reason that I wish I could touch the elf, is as simple as his name. If you've noticed, our elf doesn't have one. Well, he doesn't have one actually, he has four. Refusing to get four different elves, our kids had to decide on naming the one elf. This is a right of passage for the elf and the kids took giving his name very seriously. So much so...that they wouldn't budge on their personal choices. We have everything from "Elfie" to "Mashed Potatoes", to "Colin Kaepernick". Lauren Elizabeth's choice was of course, "He scares me".
So there you have it. I could be the only mom in the world who wishes she could touch the elf, but at least now you can understand why.
And after one more sleepless night of him, followed by another painfully early morning screamfest of, "MASHED POTATOES, ELFIE, COLIN KAEPERNICK, HE SCARES ME!!!" I might just snap and do it.