My Daughter Wants To Know Why Our Elf On The Shelf Is Behaving Strangely... We Don’t Have An Elf On The Shelf

#1

"Mommy, Jingles is gone."

The fuck. What day is it? I could've sworn it was my day off but that can't be right because Ava is at the edge of my bed, shaking my shoulder, and this little shit knows how badly I need my sleep on my days off. It's still dark out. This better be good.

"What, Ava?" I groan, rolling away from her grabby little hands.

"Jingles. Is. GONE," she repeats in that insufferable tone only 6-year-olds can pull off.

Who the fuck is Jingles?

"Who's Jingles?" I ask my pillow, editing for language.

#2

"Our elf!" Ava stamps her foot. When I don't turn back to her, she scurries over to the other side of the bed so she can thrust her face in front of mine. "He told me, he said he'd have a special present for me today but now I can't find him ANYWHERE!"

Okay. Let's get one thing straight here. I don't do that Elf On The Shelf bullshit. It's a waste of time, it basically bribes your stupid kids into behaving for a month, and it's just a glorified way for Facebook parents to take ridiculous photos and share for god knows what reason. Do you have any idea how many pictures I've seen on my timeline where a full-grown adult, someone I smoked weed with in college, has dropped Hershey's Kisses into a toilet and posed that idiotic elf over the bowl? Too many fucking times.

So you understand my confusion.

#3

"Where did you get an elf, Ava?" I ask, groping for my phone on the nightstand. 4:02 am. I am on the brink of a very serious time-out.

"He came through my window last night." She sticks her lower lip out in a pout that sort of makes me want to slap it off of her.

I wouldn't do that, of course. I don't hit my kid. But if you have kids and you act like you've never thought about it, you're a dirty liar.

#4

"Why was your window open?" Sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Yes, a time-out is on the horizon for sure. The heating bill is going to be through the roof.

"Because he was tapping," Ava insists. "I had to let him in! It's cold outside!"

Fuck. Now I'm going to have to install those stupid child-proof window lock things.

"You're not supposed to be opening your window, Ava. Or telling lies."

"It's not a lie! I couldn't leave Jingles outside!" My daughter's wide brown eyes are filling with tears now. Great, meltdown mode. "He was tapping and he was cold and he said he'd give me a present and now he's GONE!"

#5

I press my hands to my face. I'm running on four hours of sleep and short on patience.

"We don't have an elf, Ava. And Mommy needs her rest. Please go back to bed."

Her lip is quivering now.

"What if," she says tearfully, "something HAPPENED to Jingles? Something bad?"

Wonderful. I'm going to have to go buy a fucking elf now. I draw the line at the Hershey Kiss shits, though.

"Maybe he's just taking a vacation." I have to slow this train wreck before it gets out of control. I get out of bed and stretch. Time to lie to my kid, just like the rest of those losers on Facebook. "Where did Jingles say he would meet you?"

"At the Christmas tree," she sniffles.

"All right. Come on, let's go check." If I can stall for time maybe I can go get one this afternoon and put a stop to the tantrum. I know Ava, she's not going to let this go. Kid's got an insane imagination and is as stubborn as I am.

I take her by the hand and she leads me, scampering, to the living room. I'm going through all the different bullshit scenarios I can make up for why her new "friend" won't be there when I see it: the little body nestled in the branches of our Christmas tree, illuminated by twinkling lights.

#6

One leg is crossed over the other in a very relaxed pose, almost as if he's kicking back. His outfit is white, not red like ones I've seen on Facebook. His face is awful.

He's sitting next to a Monster High doll, a blank-eyed goth Barbie that I recognize as Sarah Screams, the doll that Ava put at the top of her Christmas list. I was going to buy it for her but instead, it's posed in our tree next to this repulsive little thing. Just before Ava snatches the Sarah Screams doll, I notice that the elf Jingles has his hand up Sarah's skirt.

#7

"Sarah Screams!" Ava squeals, hugging the doll tight to her chest.

What the fuck.

I feel like the thing is staring at me. I don't really want to touch it, it seems like if I touch it my skin might burn, but I move to take it out of the tree and my daughter shrieks:

"MOMMY NO!"

I jump, almost like the words came from Jingles instead of Ava.

"What?" I demand. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room.

"If you touch an elf they lose their magic!" she insists.

Where has she been learning this shit? More importantly, where did Jingles come from? And the doll?

"Ava," I say, keeping one eye on the elf, "where did you get these things?" She looks at me over the top of her new toy.

"I told you. Jingles brought it. He came in through the window."

"Did you take it from a store?" I look around for discarded toy packaging and don't see any of it. "Did someone give it to you? Be honest with me."

"Mom-meet," Ava whines. She seems frustrated. "Jingles gave it to me! I keep telling you and telling you!"

"You're telling lies again," I say.

My daughter looks on the verge of tears, clutching Sarah Screams tight.

#8

"I'm not, Mommy, I can't tell lies because if I do Santa won't bring me presents and Jingles might leave!"

I consider taking the doll from her but this will surely cause a tantrum. Besides, can I really believe that my six-year-old daughter shoplifted it without me finding out? But what's the alternative? That the elf came through her window like she said?

From his pose in the tree, Jingles smirks at me.

"Okay, okay." I usher Ava away from the Christmas tree. "Take Sarah Screams and go back to bed. I need to get some sleep, and so does Jingles." She skips off to her bedroom, happy as a clam.

When I'm sure she's in bed, hearing the door click shut behind her, I pick Jingles up by the hat with the very tips of my fingers. Holding it far away from me like something that stinks, I carry the elf to the garage and dump him in the trash can.

Jingles are going on a leave of absence. If Ava wants an Elf On The Shelf, fine, but not this one. I'll get one from Target. But mostly I'm just hoping she'll forget the whole thing. At least there are only two more days until Christmas.

#9

I'm cleaning up the dinner table when Ava stomps into the dining room. Her new favorite toy is tucked under one arm. She's scowling at me.

"Mommy, where's Jingles?"

Shit.

"Is he not in the tree?" Stalling for time as I scoop uneaten macaroni and cheese down the garbage disposal.

#10

"No. Where is he?"

I'm rinsing the plates and feeling oddly guilty as my daughter waits for an answer.

"He disappeared this morning," I offer in a voice that's so cheerful it kind of makes me sick. "Maybe he's off someplace else again? Getting you another present?" The Target shopping list is growing steadily.

"No. You're telling LIES, Mommy."

Why am I letting my kid make me feel like shit? I'm the parent here, not her.

I turn from the sink and face Ava.

"Honey, Jingles isn't our elf, okay? I don't know where he came from but he doesn't belong here. I bet Santa will send another elf really soon. There's still a few days before Christmas, that's enough time for the North Pole to find someone new."

I don't like the way Ava is looking at me.

"Jingles isn't going to be very happy," she says mysteriously and leaves.

Fuck Jingles. Mommy needs a glass of chardonnay.

#11

For the second day in a row, I wake up to the sound of my daughter's voice.

"Look, Mommy!" she cries right in my fucking ear, jerking me out of a sound sleep. "Jingles came back again!"

I have no idea what she's talking about, for a second I can't remember what the fuck a Jingles is, but as I reach for my phone to see what ungodly hour of the morning it is I freeze.

Sitting next to my iPhone is that fucking thing. The elf in all white. The screen of my phone is utterly destroyed a shattered mess.

Jingle is holding a hammer. He's smirking.

#12

Ava is in her room crying. I gave her bottom a good whack after finding out that she'd broken my phone to get back at me for throwing Jingles away. She insists it wasn't her but if the little shit is stealing because that's what this has to be, she had to have stolen the elf and the doll and when I got rid of her new friend she broke my phone.

I should've seen this coming, I guess. She's been whining about how all the other kids in class have an Elf On The Shelf and I ignored it. After her dad left she started acting out but it was always in little ways, not eating her dinner or trying to sneak into my bed at night.

Sarah Screams is on the high shelf in the hall closet and Jingles is in the dumpster behind Target. I did the rest of my Christmas shopping but I went fairly light on the presents and like hell was I going to get another elf.

I'm drinking wine and distracting myself with Christmas movies. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to afford another phone, the holiday has my savings pretty much wiped out. Maybe after Christmas, I can get a burner or something to hold me over until I'm eligible for an upgrade.

#13

Fucking Elf On The Shelf.

For a moment, I think I hear tapping on the window, but it's probably just the wine. Or the wind.

Right?

It's Christmas Eve. Things around the house have been tense. Ava isn't talking to me much but I gave her back her doll so that brightened her up a little.

We're setting up the milk and cookies for Santa. I'm arranging them near the tree when Ava asks quietly,

"Can I get the carrots for Rudolph?"

#14

I glance at her and my heart aches. Poor kid. She looks so pathetic. It's her first Christmas without her dad so I guess I've been pretty hard on her. It's just that times are tough and I guess I just don't know how to handle myself. The holidays are stressful for everyone. And that god damn elf.

"Yeah, sweetheart," I tell her, trying to use a nicer tone than I have in the past few days. "Rudolph's gonna need carrots to make his nose glow so bright."

This makes her giggle a little and I feel better. She runs to the fridge and takes a little longer than I expect her to, but before I go in to check on her she runs back into the living room with the carrots.

#15

When it's all done, there's a plate of cookies (I'll need to take a bite out of each one), a cold glass of milk (I'll have to drink that too), and a small bowl of baby carrots (good luck on me imitating reindeer teeth marks). I put Ava to bed and go to the garage to get the presents out of my trunk where they've been hidden.

#16

While I'm stacking the wrapped gifts in my arms, something behind me skitters across the floor of the garage. I nearly drop them and freeze in place. Fucking mice. I've been putting out rat poison for them but sounds like they're back.

I take the presents inside and arrange them neatly under the tree. I take the requisite bite of each cookie and finish one completely screw it, it's Christmas. A nibble from the carrot and fuck is my mouth dry.

I drain the glass of milk in a few quick swallows. It tastes funny, like maybe it's about to turn, but I'm still thirsty, so I go to the fridge and pour a few more glasses. When I go back to the living room, I give the place a once-over to make sure it looks like Santa has been here. That's when I spot the note under the cookie plate. I'd somehow missed it before.

#17

Ava must have left a message for Santa. What a sweetheart. I pull out the note and before I can read it, I see Jingles perched in the Christmas tree, smirking at me.

What the hell.

His white outfit is just as pristine as the first time I saw him but he should be soaked in garbage juice by now. Not to mention there's no way he can be here. THERE'S NO WAY.

My gut rolls. I suddenly feel so sick.

#18

I look at the paper in my hand, a sprawling child's handwriting in pink crayon:

I'm sure Mommy. Jingles are mad at you and say this wat I have to do.

He says he will take me to the north pole and I will meet Santa and get lots of presents. I want presents and you are a mean Mommy. Jingles are nice. He tells me things at nite and last nite he told me to put the funny powder in your milk.

I want to meet Santa. I'm sure. I will miss you, Mommy. You were not always mean.

Ava

#19

I scramble to the kitchen, to the sink, forcing my fingers down my throat. My first instinct is to call 911 but I don't have a phone. Ava broke it. Jingles broke it.

Some of the milk comes out in a lukewarm rush but not all of it, not enough, my stomach is still rolling and it's starting to get dark in here.

#20

I stumble back into the living room, trying to make it to Ava's room. I fall to my knees in front of the Christmas tree and vomit again on the carpet. There's blood in it this time.

Jingles is on the floor now. In front of the tree, next to the presents. And the last thing I see as I lose consciousness is the three boxes of rat poison he's sitting on.

And from somewhere behind me, I hear:

"Can we go to the North Pole now, Jingles? I can't wait to meet Santa."