Well it finally happened. Not only do I have a teenager on my hands, she is finally a non-believer. I know most parents are probably crushed when their child no longer believes in Santa. Let’s be honest, it is the best freaking part of them being a teen. Probably the only good thing.
I might be dealing with eye rolls, emerging hormones and teenage angst but …
It means the Elf is freaking dead! I no longer have to wake up at 3 in the morning in a panic wondering if I moved the little freak or not. I don’t have to answer questions on why her sister doesn’t have an elf, or why their friend’s elf has a pet. (As an aside–who the hell thought it was a good idea to have a pet for the elf?) From this December forward, I know longer have to face the knowledge that I craved to peer pressure when my daughter was in first grade.
More importantly, I no longer have to write a note back to the freaking Elf at 3 in the morning. I admit to doing a happy dance this year when I brought down the Christmas decorations. In all honesty I planned on doing an elfin sacrifice in the fire pit.
But just as I was stretching so I didn’t hurt myself with my dance moves, my eldest child informs me she still expects the elf.
What the what? You don’t believe, I told her. You know the elf isn’t real. Why do I have to still hide it?
For Bridget, she replies. (It’s amazing how often she plays the “Bridget” card)
You’re sister hates Santa and doesn’t even understand the elf, I countered.
But it’s so much fun, she replied, you have to do it. Please (cue the teenage tears)…..
Fine, but I’m not writing any notes and I am not moving it at 3 in the morning.
I hate that freaking thing.