OPINION: December is the Merriest, Unless you have an Elf on the Shelf

Originally published on January 2, 2021 in The Capital Gazette, titled, “Commentary: 2020 was too much for an Elf on the Shelf.”

Even in 2020, a year filled with misery and disappointment for all, the holiday season is filled with a magical hope—the promise of Santa Claus, a delicious supply of baked goods, and the anticipation of presents.

But, lurking among the beautiful mystery of the season is an air of torment. For out there, among the twinkly lights, the pine-scented homes, and the cookie-covered kitchens is another holiday mystery.

It’s a small mystery. One with a suspicious smile, and a lurking gaze of judgement that only a small child understands.

His name—Elf on the Shelf.

He’s followed my five year old daughter to hotels, flights across the country, and a new home. He goes where we go, like a tiny stalker we cannot escape.

For many, the Elf is an exciting part of the holiday season, bringing to life creativity for parents excited to share with their children the magical spirit of Christmas.

But for others, The Elf is an unwelcome focus.

Elaborate scenes are forcibly staged, countless lies are shared surrounding the rules of the Elf, and resentment takes over as we remember mid-sleep that the Elf needs to be moved before our children beat us out of bed each morning.

Children love the Elf. His smirky little smile, luring them into trouble—but they can’t be fooled.

For others, like my daughter, the Elf portrays a different mystery. He’s a lurker and suspect. His presence is a confusing one met with joyful mystery, but also the threat of a ruined Christmas morning.

The week before Thanksgiving, my daughter and I were driving in the car. She had gotten into trouble earlier that day for yelling at me, which lead to her calling me, “The worst mother ever.”

As we drove along in the car, she mumbled to herself, “I hate Christmas,” and with that, silently burst into tears.

It was one of the saddest moments I’ve experienced thus far as a parent. Not an easy feat in 2020—the year my daughter has watched everything shutdown, and been told twice that her Kindergarten class is switching to remote.

Elf on the Shelf isn’t just some creepy doll we parents joke about on social media. It’s a real life tiny critter, out to report back to Santa every flaw, mistake, and mishap our children have made—and that’s a lot of pressure for a five year old.

Most children understand the humor and suspense of this tiny red fellow—but in a year full of sorrow and frustration for all, the Elf is more than a monitor of good or bad behavior.

He’s as symbolic of the holiday season as Santa. But rather than offer sprinklings of joy and hope, the Elf adds doubt—instilling fear in many children who have seen playground access disappear overnight, and schools shut down with little notice.

2020 has been rough on us all, but driving in the car that day, I finally realized just how hard this year has been on my daughter.

Elf on the Shelf represents more than the prospect of presents at the end of December. He encompasses the spirit of 2020—and it’s not pretty.

What should otherwise be a cause for excitement and joy, is laced with pang and confusion. Where is the Elf hiding today? What if virtual school frustrates me so much, I pitch a fit and get in trouble? What if I can’t sit still in my chair during my Zoom call, and the Elf tells Santa?

It’s too much for some of these smaller children—the expectation of perfection.

When we got home, my daughter immediately went to her room on her own accord. I gave her a little time, and then went upstairs to check on her. Outside her door sat a note she had pushed under her door and into the hallway.

It read, “Chrisms is the wrst halluday for me. I hat chrisme. I do not want to have Crismis.” Her note also included several sad faces she had drawn, all containing tears.

As if 2020 wasn’t bad enough for us all—my five year old has also received the memo.

I picked up the note and went into her room. There she sat, on her bed holding her stuffed animal. She looked up at me, weepy eyed, and asked if it was okay that she doesn’t like Christmas.

I asked her, “Is it because of the Elf?” She nodded. I added, “Is it because you’re afraid the Elf will tell Santa that you got in trouble?” Her little head bobbed up and down.

I gave my daughter a mask-free hug and assured her, at the end of the day Mom and Dad have the final say and our opinion is the only opinion Santa cares about. That the Elf purely visits to see that she’s trying, and Santa understands not everyday will be perfect, and that is okay. All that matters is that she tries.

And I realized—her fear is the fear we are all experiencing this year, regardless of age. No one is performing their best, no one is living their best life, but all we can do is keep trying.