I'm disappointed in myself because I feel like I'm smart and witty enough to write a book but I haven't actually done it. I still have the vague belief that this blog will get me discovered by someone like the person who discovered her. But I digress...back to the Elf.
Elves creep me out in the same way leprechauns do but they don't keep me away from corned beef and cabbage on St. Patty's Day. However, I'm still not one to really buy into this whole Elf craze. For one thing, have you noticed the red eyes? I don't think I could sleep at night knowing the red-eyed creepy man-boy-doll was roaming around the house and spying on us. So there's that.
|He's stealing your soul.|
I'm not good at these things.
Growing up, I loved believing in Santa. But I loved thinking that my parents were in cahoots with him even more. All my mom had to say is that she talks to Santa every day and tells him whether we were good or bad. That was enough for me. It made me awestruck to think my mom was in contact with such a powerful person. After all, he trusted her to wrap the presents he brought us which is why the gift tags were in her handwriting.
I hope L.E. will think I'm a friend of Santa's, too. I already told her I talk to Santa and he says that she'll get another present for every five times she uses her potty. So far it's working.
No Elf-wrangling necessary.