I Got 99 Problems…

problems

So I’m wrestling two ridiculous problems right now. I have my share of normal problems like deadlines and a conspicuous lack of funds in my bank account and a piss-poor mile PR and absolutely nothing to cook for dinner that my kids will eat, but the two problems that are currently demanding a lot of time and energy on my part are absolutely, utterly ridiculous.

Problem Number 1: There are zombies in the toilet.

At least, that’s what my daughter thinks. So she’s too scared to go to the bathroom alone. Instead, she forces me, or her mom or her brother, to come into the bathroom and watch her. “Because if you don’t come with me, the zombies will crawl out of the toilet and bite me.”

Obviously, this problem is a holdover from Halloween.

I’ve tried using adult logic (“but, zombies aren’t real”) and I’ve tried using kid logic (“but, I used the special zombie cleaner when I scrubbed your toilet this week”) but nothing works. So going to the bathroom is now a group activity. Awesome.

Problem Number 2: We’ve lost our Elf on the Shelf.

We moved. Apparently, our Elf didn’t move with us. At first glance, this seems like an easy problem to fix. Go buy a new Elf on the Shelf. The kids will never know the difference, right? That’s what I thought, too. The problem is, our original Elf on the Shelf was one of the Vaguely Ethnic Elves. He’s not black, but he’s not white. He could be Hispanic or maybe Middle Eastern or even Asian. I don’t know, I feel uncomfortable even trying to guess at the Elf’s ethnicity.

The point is, he’s definitely more tan than the standard Elf on the Shelf, which is great. We follow a strict “White Man’s Guilt” approach to race issues in our house, meaning we ignore race altogether. I’d like to say we originally purchased the Vaguely Ethnic Elf to teach our kids a lesson about race, but the fact is, I picked up the first Elf I saw in the store two years ago without realizing it was Vaguely Ethnic and then my wife and I debated for five minutes in the store about whether or not putting Vaguely Ethnic Elf back and getting White Elf would be racist. Then we felt racist and guilty just because we actually thought about putting the Vaguely Ethnic Elf back on the shelf…

So we have…nay…had a Vaguely Ethnic Elf on the Shelf, and we spent the last two years ignoring his race and all was right in the world. The problem is, I go to the store to replace this Elf and all I can find in the God damn store is White Elf. Boxes and boxes of White Elf. There’s a Girl Elf now, which is awesome, bully for women’s elf rights, but my kids are expecting a super tan elf to show up and judge their actions for the next 20 some odd days. Not a Girl Elf and not a White Elf.

Or maybe not? Maybe our kids never noticed their Elf was Vaguely Ethnic? Maybe our complete ignorance of race has worked and now our kids literally don’t see color? Or shit, maybe that means they’re even more racist because they can’t see the beauty and differences of different ethnicities. Jesus Christ. There should be a manual.

Meanwhile, I’m wandering around the store looking in every aisle for a Vaguely Ethnic Elf because I don’t want to ask the store clerk if they carry an Elf that’s, “you know, darker than this elf?”

Like I said, I’ve got plenty of problems right now, but the ones I’m mostly concerned with are utterly ridiculous.

 

 

 

 

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Get the Hell Off My Shelf, Elf

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Our Elf on the Shelf finally showed up for the Christmas season. Late, as usual. Something about work obligations and a general lack of sleep.

I guess I’m excited to see the little guy. My kids sure like him. The Elf made some appearances last year before Christmas, but the kids were a little too young to truly understand the magnitude of the Elf’s presence. At 3, the Elf was just another cute Christmas decoration with a vague connection to the fat man that brings presents.

But the creepy little dude in pajamas is back. Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. In principle, I’m fine with any sort of mythology that reinforces good behavior with my kids. I’ve been known to tell them that the Easter Bunny cries himself to sleep if they don’t eat all of the green beans on their plate…and clean up their room.

But my kids don’t get that the Elf on the Shelf is supposed to be Santa’s little Narc. Ask them why Chippie the Elf has showed up, and they’ll say, “to bring us chocolate!”

Which is total bullshit. Daddy gives them chocolate. The Elf is supposed to be the heavy, the bad cop. I don’t need another person in my life to swoop in and hand out sugar and presents. I need someone to make the kids scrub their fingernails and go to sleep at night. I thought Chippie was my guy, but apparently, he’s just another sap.

And don’t get me started on the overzealous Elf on the Shelf parents. To you mother-fuckers who have gulped down the Elf on the Shelf Kool-Aid, I say stop it. Stop finding really cute ways to hide your Elf. More importantly, stop sharing pictures of your Elf hiding in really creative, mind-blowing ways on Facebook. If I see one more picture of an Elf sitting at the center of a Last Supper recreated flawlessly with action figures and Barbie dolls, I’m going to lose my shit.

Who the hell has the time and energy to bake the Elf into the center of a soufflé so that the kids discover Santa’s little Narc is watching them as they eat breakfast? Who does that?!

I can barely remember to move my damned Elf night after night. This morning, I had to stuff the Elf down my pants to get him out of the room before my kids noticed that Chippie was too damned lazy to land in a different spot after his commute from the North Pole.

And what’s with those naughty Elves that have cereal fights in the middle of the night? Parents, why would you create another mess for yourself to clean up? Do your kids not drop enough Cheerios on the floor every goddamned morning? Or maybe your Elves are so full of Christmas magic that they clean up after themselves.

Now that’s an Elf on the Shelf I could totally get behind; An Elf that cleans the house when you’re not looking. Maybe even whips up a couple of PBJ’s every once in a while. Maybe my Elf is broken. He just sits there, smiling, judging, not lifting a Goddamned finger to help out.

Thanks Elf. Now stop giving my kids chocolate.