This Christmas I was deliriously ill. (More about what a pathetic feeble germ bag I’ve become later). Anyway, it’s my excuse for nearly spoiling our carefully crafted “Elf” illusion.
After Santa “retrieved” his loyal elf on Christmas Eve, I hid him away in a temporary hiding spot in my underwear drawer where he remained nestled amongst my delicate underthings, undetected until…five days after Christmas.
I was feeling better and decided to tackle the laundry. As I was sorting socks and putting clothes into my dresser, I heard a gasp. It wasn’t my husband, horrified by the sight of my granny underpants. It was my son exclaiming, “Mum! Look!! It’s the elf. He’s in your drawer!”
Me: “Ohhhh. About that…(think Lisa, think!!) I got an email from Santa apologizing for not taking the elf with him. He was running late and was distracted and accidentally left the elf behind. He asked if you’d mind looking after Elf for one more day until he can send one of his people to pick him up tonight?” (This is what was passing over my fibbing lips, but running through my head was: Nooooooo! Shit, shit, shit. Stupid moron!! I’ve ruined Christmas!!).
*Expectant pause. Please buy it. Please don’t question my rapid speech and darting liar, liar, pants on fire, eyes.*
Son: “Oh. Ok. C’mon Elfie.”
He took the stuffed elf with him to his room where I could hear him giving a tour of his Christmas gifts. “And I got this. And this Lego. And look at this…”
*sigh of relief*
When night came, we said our goodbyes to Elfie once again. My husband set up the camera to record and the FOOTAGE (sans “over-acting hands” this time) was previewed the next morning by an astounded six year old.
This time, dad hid the elf. Guess where he “cleverly” hid him? In HIS underwear drawer! Nice thinking. My kids have really dumb parents.