"Three years ago I asked my husband a very important question: “Are we going to do ‘Elf on the Shelf’?” Our son (our only child at the time) was a year old, and it was time we aligned on this pressing matter. I’ll cut to the chase: I was into the idea, but my husband was not.
My husband was vaguely familiar with the contemporary tradition after hearing about our nephew’s elf, “Jeeter.” Keeping true to his opinion on most things “new,” he wasn’t a fan. “It’s too much,” he said. “Our son will know it’s not real,” he said. But I—who was mesmerized by the concept of elves and fairies as a child—thought it would be a fun, wonder-filled tradition to bring into our home.
I advocated for the magic, romanticized the joy, and assured my husband that many-a child believed in the wee being that welcomed itself into their home after Thanksgiving. I made a strong case. Sure, it would be work moving the thing every night, but I was up for the challenge. My heart was full of optimism, and I daydreamed about the wonderful memories this little creature would bring. My husband acquiesced. We became an “Elf on the Shelf” home.
I Have Elf on the Shelf Regret
Today, I write this story with less than two weeks until Christmas. Our elf has not yet made an appearance. In truth, I’m experiencing a bit of Elf on the Shelf regret and dreading digging the little fellow out from the closet where he’s been hastily hidden. And no, it’s not because I don’t want the extra responsibility of moving him every night. I would and will do all in my power to create and protect Christmas magic. But that’s just the problem—I’ve come to believe that the Elf on the Shelf is the antithesis of Christmas magic. Here’s why.
I’m Afraid Elf on the Shelf is Going to Spoil the Secret of Santa Claus
Last Christmas, I found myself trying to convince our 3-year-old son that our elf (Klaus) was, in fact, a real magic being. I was encouraging him to share with Klaus what he wanted for Christmas. After relaying his most desired items to the elf, he then went over to a stuffed snowman decoration and began to repeat his wish list. He was very clearly equating Klaus with an inanimate Christmas decoration.
While I corrected and explained the difference between the two, the rest of the Christmas season was filled with questions about Klaus. It was pretty clear our son wasn’t necessarily buying the elf narrative. I’ve seen so many families partake in Elf on the Shelf—it never crossed my mind that the elf would lead my child down a road of disbelief.
My son is now 4 years old. I’m not sure if a year’s maturity will make him more or less likely to believe in the elf and his supposed Christmas magic, but—suffice it to say—I’m dreading finding out. I’m afraid that if they don’t believe in the elf, they won’t believe in Santa, either. I want my kids to believe in Santa Claus for as long as possible, and I’d hate to think that my decision to bring an elf into the home will shorten that timeframe in any way.
I’m Tired of the Commercialism
My family didn’t “do” Elf on the Shelf when I was growing up. And before I had kids, I thought it was truly as simple as “take a toy elf and put it on a shelf.” Over the past several years, I’ve watched elf culture become its own subbrand of commercialism. You can buy multiple elves! Or elf pets! And don’t forget all of the elf accessories, display items, or boxes of daily elf antics that can make all of your mornings magical in a pinch (a dream for busy parents during the holiday season!).
I know I can’t be alone when I say I’m just really… tired. Tired of spending money. Tired of feeling pressured to do more and own more. With age, I’ve found the most magical Christmas experiences are those that cost little to no money. The older I get, the more I want to avoid buying into traditions. The more I want to get back to the nostalgic Christmases I grew up with. The more I want to refocus my family on the true meaning of the holiday. Basically, the more Elf on the Shelf commerce booms, the more it makes me want to ship our elf back to the North Pole.
I’m Worried it Will Feed Nighttime Fears
Around 3.5 years old, my son started developing the very common, very real awareness of death as a concept. At this same time, he began to adopt (what I can imagine to be) very typical nighttime fears. While both of my kids are (thankfully) great sleepers, my son has occasionally mentioned the fear of strangers coming into the house while he’s asleep.
Again, our elf has not yet arrived. But a part of me is nervous that, once he does, this little North Pole resident—who tends to wreak havoc in the middle of the night—is going to feed my child’s fears.
It’s Just Entirely Too Much
As un-jolly as it sounds, parenthood has made me of the opinion that Christmas cheer shouldn’t be a 24/7 commitment. While I myself (as an adult who is capable of emotional regulation) enjoy doing all the things (from wearing overly seasonal clothing to drinking peppermint coffee exclusively during the month of December), I do firmly believe the holiday becomes less special when you’re on round-the-clock magic consumption for two, four, six, or even eight weeks straight.
Since having kids, I’ve found myself wanting to do a holiday lifestyle edit—scaling back and focusing on the Christmas traditions that matter the most. Sometimes—when there is less—the less becomes that much more important. Elf on the Shelf is one of those items that sometimes just feels like “too much.”
I’d rather hype up Santa than the elf. Rather watch a Christmas movie with my husband than worry about where I’m going to move the elf. I’d rather my kids make good choices because it makes them and those around them feel good rather than out of fear of the elf’s report.
How We Plan to Handle Our Elf on the Shelf Going Forward
While my feelings are changing since first bringing our elf home (and frankly, growing stronger by the day), Klaus will in fact be making an appearance this year. He’ll likely show up for a brief stint—10 days before Christmas. Why? Because my kids have asked about him, and my husband and I don’t feel right pulling an audible in the final hour. And so, we’ll welcome him with an open home and cheerful enthusiasm.
As for next year, who’s to say? My husband and I have discussed this topic at length and have concluded that—first and foremost—we’ll have to see how the elf goes over this Christmas. With my daughter now 2 years old and my son now 4, it’s very possible that they’ll really enjoy the tradition this December and look forward to finding their elfish friend each morning. It’s possible they will believe with their full, innocent, beautiful hearts that the elf is real.
We’ll see how it goes.
Deciding When to Quit Elf on the Shelf
If the opposite is true, and we feel our elf Klaus is in any way negatively impacting our Christmas season or sowing seeds of magical doubt in our children’s minds, then he will not return next Christmas. Perhaps next December, he’ll be watching over another family. Perhaps once the oldest child in the house turns 5, the elf’s work will be done. Whatever the decision may be, it will be one made with love and care.
While I wait for this season to play out, holding many unknowns in my head and heart, I’m grasping onto that exact strength and knowledge as well. We as parents and caregivers, through our love and commitment, are the creators and guardians of our children’s Christmases. Elves bring fun, but they don’t make magic. That responsibility—a true gift—lies with us.
Emilee Janitz, Contributing Writer
Emilee is an accomplished communications strategist and lifestyle journalist. She currently works on the content team at Enterprise SEO company Terakeet where she creates and executes reputation management strategies for Fortune 500 companies. She is a Contributing Fashion Writer for The Everygirl and has additionally been published on POPSUGAR, Motherly, MSN, and Yahoo.