Dear Kids: You F**kers Are Naughty (A Letter From The Elf On The Shelf)

Dear Kids: You F**kers Are Naughty (A Letter From The Elf On The Shelf)

Christmas

Michael Kappel / Flickr

I see you. You know I see you, but you don’t give a flying goldfish. You keep making messes, and your mom and dad tell you to pick them up 15 times a day, but you just say, “OK,” and then pretend. You are very good at pretending. You pick up one or two toys, throw them into the bin, and then when Mom and Dad have left the room, you go right back to playing.

Now I’m not judging you, I think your parents are dumb as hell. They don’t even come back to check to make sure you did a good job. They just go right about their business, doing laundry, cooking, cleaning, and working on those computer thingies they are so obsessed with. They barely even play with you, so who can blame you for needing so many toys? And of course you want to leave them all over the floor for everyone to trip on, because comfort. Duh.

The one thing I don’t get, and help me out with this one, but you are very tiny people and you eat more than Santa Claus. Dude, that guy can eat some serious crap food, let me just tell you, but I think you guys might really outdo him. I almost fell off my shelf when I saw you go back to the kitchen 45 seconds after you had just eaten a pizza, so that you could have a bowl of chocolate cereal. I mean, WTF kids? I think I counted 22 trips to the refrigerator and/or pantry in one day.

By the way, don’t think I don’t see you wiping your boogers on the sofa. You are both a hot mess — you do know that, right? I don’t understand why your parents even put a napkin by your plate, because after you eat, they throw it away, completely unused. It’s crazy! And then you guys wipe your faces on your sleeve, you wipe your hands on your clothes, and you sometimes even use your shirts for a snot rag. Can you tell me what the phobia is about napkins? There must be something really terrifying about them for you to not want to touch them, like ever.

The other thing that really gets my red onesie in a twist is the whining. Oh my god, the whining. I’m just complaining here, because I actually get it. It’s like this: You whine, and then you immediately get what you want. It works every time, so I totally see why you would do it, but for fuck’s sake, can you take it into the other room? I have very small ears, and the sound is going to bust my little eardrums. I’m gonna go out on a mantle here and say it’s the worst sound in the world. I know your parents don’t like it either, because their eyes get all crazy and their faces start turning red as Rudolph’s nose.

Again, I can appreciate its effectiveness, but is there any other tool in your pint-sized toolbox that would work just as well to get your way? I’m just spit-balling here, but could you, I don’t know, ask nicely for something? Maybe give them those puppy eyes and that heart-melting smile I’ve seen you reserve for me and the dog? I mean, I certainly deserve it, but the dog? He licks his own butt.

Anyway, I’m not gonna tell Santa or anything. You guys are naughty, but not coal-in-your-stocking naughty. You didn’t set the house on fire, or tie a knot in Susie’s hair or anything. But still. Get it together before next Christmas, all right?