7:23 am here. A Monday morning. The house smells of pine, and is littered with evidence of a big, wonderful party. The baby dances on Daddy's lap. The big girls are still asleep. No, wait. I hear footsteps on the stairs. They are making their way down.
The first thing they will do? They will look for that little guy above. They've named him, appropriately, Scout. Scout lingers in a new location every morning. And every night, while our girls slumber, he flies to the North Pole to report to Santa. To tell the big guy whether our kiddos have been naughty or nice.
Or? Os is this a bizarre and questionable addition to our set of long-lived holiday traditions? Is there something wrong with delegating aspects of parenting to a little, (marginally-freaky-looking) elf?
Am I overthinking this? (Wouldn't be the first time.)
Must go. They are looking for Scout. And I want to trail behind them on their little morning mission and soak up their squeals when they find him.
Do you know all about The Elf on the Shelf? Thoughts on this parental practice? Have you been more naughty or more nice this year? What about your little ones?