Author Megan Mack and Bumble are a couple of smart cookies.
by Richmond Mom Meghan Mack
A few years ago I discovered The Elf on the Shelf and figured that I had hit the jackpot.
Visions began dancing through my head of a perfectly behaved boy and girl who went around the house looking for ways to be helpful. I could be rocking my youngest to sleep and come out to find a neat and tidy house with a table set for dinner and a pot roast simmering in the oven. Well, you know that they say dreaming is free and I would never expect small children to be around a hot oven (note: disclaimer) but I was on board for some better manners and less “feedback” from the mouths of babes.
I must say that it did work the first year. A rather smooth Christmas season was had by
all and I gave all the credit to the Elf on the Shelf. Year two brought the same fascination
and slight fear that the little creature would sell them out if they didn’t follow the rules so,
again, a lovely Thanksgiving transitioned into a joyous Christmas yet again. Now you may ask
yourself, “Thanksgiving?” Oh yes. We get our little Elf, Bumble as we call him, out a day or two
after carving that bird and it is on.
Now this year was quite different than those past. Bumble came to visit at the very same time
and the children were excited to see him for yet another season but I could see there was not
the same reverence in my oldest son’s eyes this year. I shook it off but the days that followed
proved my initial hunch to be correct.
It was almost as if the Elf had never arrived. Attitudes and back talk, mostly from my eight year
old son, were out of control. His behavior seemed to rub right off on my daughter (5) who is
usually quite sweet and helpful and my little guy (3) who will repeat anything his big brother
says because he thinks that the sun rises and sets on him.
There was one day when five o’clock came and I had already had all of them in time out and
was trying to figure out how they had made a corn bread trail from the bathroom to all of the
bedrooms; all the while attempting to get peanut butter out of a broom. Really? In the midst
of chaos was when it happened, the event that would change how we looked at our Elf forever.
I had finally released them from their rooms and sent them on their way to the Den to have
some screen time so Mom could throw something together for dinner. It was then I witnessed
the action that would bring down the house. My outcry brought the younger two bursting into
the dining room where I stood, mouth agape, staring at my oldest son. The look of horror on
his face only confirmed what I had just witnessed.
“What Mommy, what?” my daughter asked.
All I could do is point to her brother and whisper “he touched Bumble.”
Now, for those of you who don’t know, this is a mortal sin. If you touch the Elf he loses his magic and can’t get back to Santa thus no presents on Christmas day. It says so in the book and it is a rule we have lived by in this house.
Silence filled the room and, from the look on his face, he knew he had really done it this time. Now, I usually don’t get crazy about things like this and my typical response would have been to make him write a letter and apologize. Not this time, these children had driven me to my limit and it was time for action.
The next morning when they awoke and went downstairs, Bumble was nowhere to be found.
Believe me, they checked everywhere. Later that afternoon when they arrived home from school they found a letter, it was from Bumble. In a nutshell it said that he had tried to fly but, having lost his magic, he was no longer able to do so. He had fallen and hurt himself. Bing, the head elf, had to come get him and take him back to the North Pole to recover. Santa was not pleased with these events and would not let him come back until the behavior improved. Oh, and currently they were all on the naughty list.
Now, I know that some of you are thinking how horrible this is, some may call it cruel and unusual punishment but I’d had it. My patience had gone out the door a day or so ago and something drastic needed to happen. They needed to learn if you don’t follow the rules there are consequences, people can get hurt, even elves.
Three days past and Bumble had not returned. It may seem a little ruthless that I let it go that long but, I must say, the good behavior returned. Selfishly, I wanted him to be gone a bit longer but I knew that it was time. So, on the fourth morning Bumble was found on the mantle. They stared at him with eyes the size of saucers for on his head was a large band aid. Over breakfast I heard them discussing, ever so quietly, that they had to be good from now on, for Bumble’s sake.
So, my sanity was restored, at least for a few days and the children have been doing their best to get back on the “nice” list. There have been minor infractions here and there but nothing as monumental as the “Elf Incident” as it came to be known.
The children still look for Bumble every morning and keep a safe distance once they find him. Several times a day they do inquire if they are back on the “nice” list and my response is always the same. “One can only hope but we’ll never be sure until Christmas day.” They walk away, shaking their heads, wishing for a different answer. At the same time I ask myself, “am I on the ‘nice’ list this year?” Guess I’ll get my answer the same day they do.
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