Hot Feet

Ok.  So.  Hubs and I are officially the going to HELL.  Why, you ask.   Well that would be because of the all the “fibs” and “little white lies” we’ve told in the last week or so.

Here’s the story……

About a week and a half ago, Lil’Dude started in about Christmas.  Longer than that actually, as all of the retail stores around here have had ornaments and decorations out for at least a month, which is when it really started.  But about a week and a half ago, he really got into the idea of Christmas.  Thusly, the discussions of Santa “watching” to see if your naughty or nice.  And how he “watches” all the time.  At school, at home, on the bus, at Grandmas, etc. 

So on Monday of last week, Lil’Dude was a M-O-N-S-T-E-R!  I mean, wanting to pull my hair out, back talking, sassy, snotty, whiny monster.  Now Mondays can be challenging on any given week, due to “getting back in the routine.”  But this particular day was ……. WHOA!  exceptionally challenging.  With that, I told Lil’Dude the story of the “Naughty or Nice List.”  This is step one of going to hell.

The story goes a little something like this……   Every year as Santa starts checking his “list”, every little boy and girl are on the Nice list.  But, as they misbehave, part of their name starts to disappear.  Letter by letter.  As the letters disappear off the Nice list, they begin to appear on the Naughty list.  UH OH!!  Naughty list means COAL!  And all of your presents go to a boy or girl on the Nice list.

So, there was a minor, and I do mean minor, change in attitude.  Tuesday was a better day, which it usually is.  But by Wednesday we were back in the battle.  Ughh.  Really.  Come’on man, cut me some slack here.  With reaching the limit, Hubs decided to play a joke on Lil’Dude.  Which goes something like this:  (ring, ring)  “Well HELLO Santa.  Yup, he’s here.  Oh, really.  Hmmm.  Sure.  I’ll tell him.  Thanks for calling.”  “Who was that dad?”  “Dude, it was Santa.  He called to tell me, to tell you, that you just lost ONE WHOLE letter off your name.  Bud, that’s not good!”  (Lil’Dude walks into living room, where I am during this exchange, with eyes the size of dinner plates.)  “Mom, I lost a “T”.  What am I going to do?  Do you think I can get it back?”  “Well son, I’m sure with some work you can earn it back.  But that will take behaving, doing what is asked of you, no sassy talk, no talking back.  Being good.”  Conclusion of step two of going to hell.

Hubs, who is always thinking, picked up the book “Elf on the Shelf” after work on Thursday and brought it home for Lil’Dude from SANTA.  Have you seen this little gem??  The author of this story is BRILLANT!  Deserves a gold star from every parent with a young child(ren).  Let me tell the story of “Elf on the Shelf” and step three on the road to hell.  The pack includes a beautiful hard cover book and a little “Elf”.  The story goes:  Santa has sent you this elf to “keep an eye on you.”  Every night the Elf goes back to the North Pole to “report” to Santa on your behavior.  (LOVE IT)  When he returns from his trip to the North Pole, he “hides” in a different spot to “watch” you.  You can’t touch the Elf, as he will loose all of his magic, and not be able to return to the North Pole and report to Santa on your behalf.  You can talk to him, but he won’t talk back as he just listens and watches.  OH, and most importantly, you can not tell anyone about him.  (I’m dying here)  So. At this point Hubs hides the Elf and the book on the front porch for Lil’Dude to find, as it’s from Santa remember.  Hubs and Lil’Dude find said Santa package, and snuggle in to read the story.  I’m in the kitchen preparing dinner, listening to the exchange between them.  DYING.  Trying to contain myself.  Trying not to laugh.  Trying not to give it away.  About to pee my pants the whole time.  About half way through reading the story, I chime in…. “I figured it out.  I solved the mystery.  I know why you got the little Elf.  Remember Santa called Dad last night about you loosing a letter.  I bet that’s why you got the Elf today.” (Step four on the road to hell.)  With big eyes, and not real sure what to believe, “oh, mom…. do you think that’s why?  I don’t know.  I don’t think Santa sent him.  I don’t know if he’s real.”  “Oh, I’m pretty sure.  Are you willing to NOT believe?  I’m NOT.”

Here’s our Elf.  His name is Elvin Elf.  (You have to name him.  Oh and register him, so Santa knows where he is.)  He spent the first night on the table in the kitchen.  The next morning was just as funny as the night before.  Lil’Dude jumped right out of bed to see if Elvin was still on the table.  Which he wasn’t.  He flew to the North Pole and back and landed in a new spot to “watch.”    Once he found him, it was “Good Morning Elvin.  Have a good day.  I’ll be good at school today.  Just so you know.”  (about pee’d my pants again)

So everyday since his arrival Elvin Elf has landed in a new location in our house.  Its almost become a game to find him in the morning.  And a GREAT tool to keep the sass at a minimum. 

As much fun as we are having with this little gem, my feet are getting hot.  Why you ask.  That would be the flames of HELL tickling them.

Happy holidays…. from hell….. Love from The Farm.

PS.  As I sit here writing this post he is telling Elvin Elf what he would like for Christmas.  A light up Lightsaber.  A new bike.  A pack of stickers.  Stick on the walls race track.  LOL!!