Last week, I mentioned that Ivy wanted an elf sent to our house. You know, from the North Pole. In years past, I’ve been so very against having an elf. I mean, we already have to plan at least two solid weeks of traveling, buy and wrap all the presents, do all the Christmas-y things (and by “we,” I mean “I,” obviously).

But, after she said that she really wanted one, and I considered that maybe our elf (if I broke down and got one) would just move “every” night (I use that word loosely, obviously) and not do entertaining or disruptive or creative things, I decided that it might be okay to get one. It’s a big commitment, considering that my youngest will probably believe in “Fanta Clause” for several more years (barring any magic-bursting via sibling or classmate).

But I did it. I got on Amazon and found a cute (but not just like everybody else’s) elf and ordered her. She arrived two days later, and since the preschooler was the only one in the room at the time, I opened up the box and showed her. Then we set her on top of the TV, on some festive homemade garland, and waited.

When the bus dropped them off, Henry and Ivy walked in, shed their coats, and came in the living room. And it started.

Henry! We have an elf!

She came in a package today. Miss Matter-of-Fact-Preschooler informed them.

Can we see her?

She’s a girl!

She’s a stuffed animal.

No, she’s not, she’s an elf! Let’s put her back now.

She’s not real.

What do you mean she’s not real? Of course, she’s real!

My teacher said you can’t touch an elf.

(Whoops, guess I’d better learn the “elf rules”) She’s real. She’s just…..friendlier than some other elves. (They haven’t touched her since.)

There was some naming controversy, but they finally settled on Snowflake Skywalker…just Snowflake for everyday use.

Every night, after the kids are asleep and I’ve settled in for the night, I check Facebook and Instagram one last time, and see an elf. CRAP. I get up and move the elf. Or, if I’m lucky, I convince hubs to get up and move the elf. It’s like Christmas Eve Every. Single. Night. with the waiting for silence from the kids’ room and the sneaking around doing Christmas things in order to surprise them in the morning.

But every morning…

She moved!

She’s in the tree! or She’s on daddy’s desk! or She FLEW FROM THE DOLLHOUSE TO THE FAN! ESSIE SAW IT! (That was a “magic trick” performed by hubs while he made breakfast and they weren’t looking.)

We’ve only had Snowflake for a few days, but so far, she’s worth it. Except the two year old just took her out of the tree and carried her around for a while. Shhhhhhh….

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