December is upon us and, for an estimated 28 million families around the world, that means one thing: the return of a havoc-wreaking, red-suited time-waster. The Elf on the Shelf is back.
If you have managed to keep this menace out of your home, congratulations. I banned the elf plushie my mum brought back from the US for my three children from our own shelves on aesthetic grounds. But we are still not safe. Giant versions will be popping up this month on the streets in central Bristol, Liverpool and Croydon. The Elf on the Shelf is coming for our Christmas traditions, and you cannot hide.
The idea, for the uninitiated, is that ‘Santa’ (what happened to Father Christmas?) sends a ‘scout elf’ to every home at the beginning of December, to sit on a shelf and keep watch over the children of the house. Any naughtiness gets tattle-taled straight back to the bearded present-bringer-in-chief, who blacklists the misbehaving child. And by ‘sends’, I mean someone has to spend £19.99 to acquire an official elf and his accompanying story book.
So far, so creepy. But it gets worse. In what could be argued to be a flagrant breach of the Trade Descriptions Act, the elf doesn’t, in fact, sit on a shelf but roams the house causing mayhem. The fun, or the headache, gets going each evening when the elf manipulator-in-chief has to create a fresh tableau of mischief for the little guy to have supposedly performed and which will be discovered, in the morning, by their DD or DS (‘dear daughter’ or ‘dear son’). Every. Evening.
Suggestions for what his or her elfness - this is equal opportunities irritation - might have got up to are legion. They range from filling a sink with miniature marshmallows and leaving the elf wallowing for a spa day to ‘going number two in a candle’, as one website puts it, and sitting the elf on a candle with some strategically placed chocolate chips. Others include tipping rainbow-coloured sprinkles on the kitchen counter and getting the elf to make a ‘snow angel’ - and a hell of a mess - or going crazy with some stickers on the TV screen that, and I’m only guessing here, you’ll then have to peel off the following evening. How hilarious.
Or how about using peas to spell out "Oops, I pea’d myself" and have the elf sitting on a little pile of peas. Lol! Not. Anyone who has watched chef Carmy tweezering peas into a straight line while plating up on The Bear knows there is nothing funny about trying to get tiny green spheres to co-operate.
Without wishing to spark a gender war, I’m guessing the bulk of this additional labour will fall to the female of the house, because that’s what so often tends to happen. A question about which adult bears the brunt of scout elf’s nonsense has yet to make it into the Britain Social Attitudes survey, but given that last year most respondents said women still do most of the cleaning and cooking, I doubt the answer would surprise anyone.
So on behalf of all those who are already tired out from shopping for gifts, untangling tree lights, and rolling pastry for mince pies, I say enough is enough. If you want elves, stick to JRR Tolkien, or for a Christmas twist, let me recommend Lauren Child’s Think Like an Elf, which features Clarice Bean, some elf-themed tea towels and zero shelves. Christmas is hard enough work without going looking for more.
