FFS, Just Let The Elf People Have Their Joy

by Jorrie Varney
Originally Published: 
Jorrie Varney

Welcome to 2019, most of humanity is lost, a robot is currently cleaning my floors, and my children bend to the will of a tiny felt elf. It’s all fucking ridiculous if you ask me, but yes, my family has an Elf on the Shelf. My children think the sun rises and sets in his ass, and I let them.

Truth be told, I can’t decide if I love him or hate him. For the most part, he’s a pain in the ass who I constantly forget about. Just this week he spent two days in a stocking on the mantel because I fell asleep watching trashy tv. The next night he left a note advising the kids that Elfitis is going around the North Pole and he hadn’t yet received his vaccine. I’ve resorted to setting an alarm on my phone that goes off every night at 10 p.m., reminding me to pull him off the chandelier and reposition him on the curtain rod.

I know, it’s a bit much, but when my kids came home from school a few years ago talking excitedly about their friends’ elves, and wishing out loud that Santa would send one to their house, I took the bait. I don’t care that he’s a pain in the ass, because Christmas is my favorite holiday and spreading joy in any way I can is my number one priority. It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with my kids.

Honestly, it’s helpful in a way. December is the only month my kids get out of bed every morning, without a fuss. Our elf doesn’t really do anything cool, he just moves from place to place, but I don’t care if other elves are taking marshmallow bubble baths on the reg. If you want to post 300 pictures of your elf saving orphans from a burning building go for it, I seriously don’t give a shit. It doesn’t annoy me, because the holidays are a time of hope and happiness, and everyone (who wants to) should embrace them as such.

I mean, who even knows if society will survive until next Christmas, just let everyone enjoy the season however they wish, even if that includes a stuffed Christmas elf building a nativity scene out of gumdrops while we sleep. I don’t care if my kids believe in “magic.” In fact, I encourage it.

I can already hear Becky in the comments section, “I don’t think it’s healthy to lie to children. And to that I say, NO ONE CARES ABOUT LYING TO THEIR CHILDREN, BECKY? Kids aren’t sitting on Dr. Phil’s couch talking about how their parents let them believe in Santa for years, are they? They will be just fine. There are literally way bigger problems in the world—move on already.

Remember in the movie Elf how Buddy’s dad was a big asshole about his belief that he was a Christmas elf? He thought it was absurd, and he made sure everyone knew it. But why? Well, because Buddy’s dad was kind of a dick. Don’t be Buddy’s dad. Let people, especially children, believe in the magic of an elf, or Santa, or even Krampus, if that’s what twists their candy cane. It’s not hurting you. Unless that elf comes to life, flies to your home, and physically assaults you, I don’t want to hear about it.

I know there are the anti-elf parents, just like there are the anti-pacifier parents, anti-screen time parents, anti-fast food parents, and the list goes on and on until we all hate each other. So maybe, just this once, we can all agree that people celebrate the holiday season differently, and that’s totally OK.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my move-the-elf alarm is going off and I have joy to spread and magic to create.

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