The freaking elf.
I think that pretty much sums up my feelings toward this little guy.
Yes, it was so adorable when Santa delivered him to us. And right after Thanksgiving, I am usually happy to see him. But, by the time December 24th rolls around, I am not sorry to see him go.
There is such pressure included with this thing. What kind of things does your elf get involved in? Does he lay limp on the floor? Do you spend hours sewing new outfits for him? Do you use your Cricut to create elaborate activities for your offspirng? Do you break your elf's leg so he won't have to move for at least a week? Do you wake up in with a curse word and a mild heart attack at 3am because you forgot to move him... again?
I am somewhere in the middle. Our elf is not a limp noodle (we actually gave him a wire skeletal system years ago). And he is not a fashion-forward, Pinterest-inspired, DIY crafter.
This season, the kids were pleased with the shenanigans Elvis got into.
The day before the poop, our elf was hanging onto the fan in the family room. Poor guy swung around in circles all day... Bud was afraid Elvis might throw up.
Anyway, only a few more nighttimes... then this little guy will fly away.
There is little I like more than a holiday! Something about the energy of the day makes me giddy.