So, I am beginning to realize that kids the same age as Texas are NOT grilling their parents nightly about the daily happenings of their Elves. Each day when I pick him up from school I am confronted with a rapid fire of inquisition-like questioning about the back story on the blasted elf of the shelf.

Why does Crisbow not blink? If he goes to the North Pole every night where is his coat? When was Crisbow born? When will he die? Where are his parents? Did they die? Does he miss me for the rest of the year? Does he visit other kids or just me? Do they also call him Crisbow? Why will his magic go away if I touch him? How about if I put on gloves and carry him (our skin won’t be touching)?

And it is not the questions that bother me – it is the incessant lying I am forced into.  The lie is getting more and more elaborate and grotesque every day.

“Well, when you are born your elf is born too and Santa raises him until you are old enough to give him a name and then he comes to you every year until you get too old and then he retires to the North Pole toy making shop and spends the rest of his life (approximately 100-125 years) making toys and playing with other elves. He does not need a coat because of his magic and I think he was born from Christmas joy and Santa is like his parents.”

And as if this is not enough, you are forced into coordinated lying with other parents. “Okay, I told Texas that he and Alfie meet up every night and go back to the North Pole together….by the way, what did you say about Alfie’s coat? Does he have one? Crisbow just uses his elvish magic – I didn’t want to have to scour Etsy for tiny elf coats, which someone is probably making a fortune off of…”