(Warning: Total Debbie Downer Post.)
She shrieked with joy while unwrapping it then immediately threw it to the floor. "Can I touch it?" she gasped.
Apparently, you cannot touch a real Elf on a Shelf or it will lose its magic.
I know, I have blogged about the elf before. I swear this is the last time. But I am very uncomfortable with all the fantasy and make-believe associated with Christmas. And I dread it more each year the kids get older.
I don't like pretending that a stuffed animal is real, especially one that is spying on my kids. I don't like lying to my kids about Santa. I want them to understand physics (and the spatial constraints of visiting every Christian house in the world in one night) and the ecosystem of the North Pole (that inhabits no people-human or elf-and also happens to be warming). I want them to know that their toys likely came from child laborers and they should understand how truly fortunate their lives are. Also, there is no jolly white man who cares about every child. In reality, a lot of white men in this country would like to cut medicaid and education funding for our children and feed them meat fit for dog consumption. Kind of the opposite of all this imaginary Christmas stuff.
I want my kids to know all this from the beginning so they aren't shocked and disapointed when they find out for themselves. Who knows, maybe they'll be more prepared to fix some of these problems as adults if they're raised to acknowledge them as children.
I know what you're thinking. The children are so sweet and innocent. You can't take Santa away from them! Also, you're f*cking deranged, woman!
Yes, I probably am deranged. And I'll let you know when my kids are older if they end up deranged as well. But I just want to be straight with them. And I don't equate innocence with ignorance. Or mistake mass-marketed elf toys for magic. Next year, I will try harder to overcome the norm.
I will celebrate reality. Festivus, maybe?