The “Elf on the Shelf” first entered my consciousness a few years ago, when my oldest daughter came home from a clearly hip-and-ahead-of-the-curve friend’s house after Thanksgiving and declared that the family had an elf.
The slave-elf Dobby from the “Harry Potter” books sprang to mind, but that wasn’t it. As you surely now know, what that family possessed was an “Elf on the Shelf,” who observed the two children of the house and reported back to Santa. The said elf possessed powers allowing him to move around the house while no one was looking, and reminded me of the Weeping Angels of “Doctor Who” fame (they can move only when no one is watching, and sneak up on victims to transport them to the past). But like so many children, my daughter’s friends were unconcerned and delighted by the elf’s antics (the word “antics” is part of the mandatory write-about-the-Elf-on-the-Shelf vocabulary).
I thought the elf was a clever relic of one of the parents in the family’s childhood, but as you also surely know by now, it’s not. It’s a commercial item, available in a store near you, and it’s everywhere: in the Thanksgiving Day Parade, in a digitally animated holiday special and in millions of bloggers’ homes across the country. Those elf antics make great fodder, and they also make great fodder for snark regarding the “Overachieving Elf on the Shelf Mommies” from bloggers like the anonymous writer of People I Want to Punch in the Throat (her hilarious post from last year was reprinted this year on The Huffington Post, in honor of her book, “Spending the Holidays with People I Want to Punch in the Throat”).