Tutu is Lost (Part 1)
December 1 2023 Day 31
On the last day of November, I found myself in the return line at Wal-Mart trying to explain why I needed to return a dark complexion, brown-eyed Elf on the Shelf toy for a light complexion, blue-eyed Elf on the Shelf toy. It wasn’t going well.
My mortification was somewhat mollified by keeping in mind that I was doing this for my daughter.
Some background. For several years now, Little Bean, and thus our house, has hosted Tutu, a girl Elf on a Shelf. For those blissfully unaware, EOS is a small toy, a mischievous elf that visits a child’s home on Dec. 1 and stays until Dec. 25 - ostensibly to report back to Santa on any wrong-doing. (So, a spy. Big brother. The elf is an agent of the state.)
The instructions are that the child cannot touch the elf (except for the final day) and if those instructions are followed, then the elf will move around the house, causing hijinks and general mirth. Little Bean loves her. I do not. Why? Because ultimately, I’m the Elf on the Shelf. I’m the one who moves her around, secretly, at night, losing sleep, trying to prevent my child from somehow figuring all this out in the name of protecting her innocence.
Keeping Santa a secret is child’s play compared to the complex series of infrastructure planning that must go into maintaining this secret identity - not to mention making sure that when they are all asleep and I am rooting around the house trying to figure out the next elf “surprise” that I don’t leave the elf within reach of the jaws of our dog so my daughter isn’t traumatized one morning by Tutu parts strewn around the house.
Question: Would the elf, who is magic after all, be able to continue her duties even as a zombie? I digress.
So, as I have every year for the past few, the other night, I began the process of gathering Tutu and all her resplendent accessories together in a primary location for ease of use. Over the course of the year, I keep her packed up out of sight in my library behind some books on an out of reach shelf.
But this year, much to my confusion and horror, Tutu was gone…
Tomorrow: Join us for Part 2, Tutu is Found, I get things hopelessly wrong, again, and have to make an embarrassing trip to Wal-Mart.
I'm so sorry. The Walmart employees are unforgiving (I'm usually returning clothes, and I've found that the simpler the explanation, the better). Fears of appearing insensitive happen to us all. (When making a first appointment for my grandfather with a new doctor, I clumsily had to inquire about the physician's racial background in the name of making sure his accent won't be too thick for my grandfather to understand). And, I think the whole Elf on the Shelf thing is ridiculous. As if this time of year isn't stressful enough, especially for parents, somebody thought that adding a creepy spy doll with a bunch of rules was a good idea. Whatever happened to the theory that Santa just saw everything? I wish I could offer more than just sympathy.
I'm so thankful my children grew up before EOS was a glimmer in the eye of it's creator. I see my children doing it for thier children and I think I would have probably "accidently" flushed it down the toliet. But then I would have had to pay for a plumber. The elf always wins. You and other parents of this generation deserve a special reward for shelfing the elf all through the holiday season.