I make breakfast, lunch and dinner most days.
I gently stick on band-aids and wipe away tears.
I wipe their bums and clean their clothes.
I find their lost toys.
I distribute treats and conjure up surprises.
I love them fiercely.
Yet who is it that they race for the moment they wake up every morning?
Him.
The minute they open their eyes, they are off.
“Where is he? Where is he?”
I suppose he is the fun one.
You see, I am the one who has to be firm, yet fair. I am the one who says no to biscuits for breakfast. I am the monster who won’t buy them the toy at the shop. I am the enforcer on a daily basis. But him? He just gets to breeze in and out at a time that suits, have his fun and then disappear. He can be a little bit cheeky and the kids go wild for anything that is bordering on naughtiness.
Don’t tell him this (I’m sure he doesn’t read half my blogs, so I should be safe), but sometimes I fully resent this. I am jealous of their bond. Whilst it is something I am constantly working to foster, who wouldn’t get the shits when he is the one getting all the credit for their beaming smiles. I wanted this. Of course I wanted them to look up to him and love him so with all their little hearts. But not so that they forget about me. Not so that they race past my outstretched arms each morning.
And wouldn’t you know it, the minute they get tired, distracted, hungry, over it, who is the one left to pick up the pieces? Not him! Me. I have to stick my game face back on and get my hands dirty. Quite frankly, this year especially, he has been bloody hard work. I am constantly doing stuff for him, literally googling ideas as to how he can entertain the kids. Showing him the good spots and tapping into ideas that I know will make the kids happy. He just sits back and watches.
I suppose I have to take full responsibility.
I started this bloody Elf on the Shelf business.
He has proven way too popular and it looks like Alfie is here to stay.
Bugger.
