Last night the kids and I put up our Christmas tree and decorations (with some help from Dad during MNF commercials). Dylan sat happily in her swing while Layla and I adorned the tree with garlands, baubles and bows, and Weston moved every decoration at least twice and climbed up and down the step ladder wearing his construction hat talking about building a house out of bricks for baby Jesus so the big bad wolf couldn't blow it down.
We finished the festivities, got the kids in their jammies, and Daddy sat down to read a special bedtime story, The Elf on the Shelf. It's an adorable book about our own personal elf who hangs around our house during the Christmas season and watches the goings on in the household, then flies to the North Pole every night to report back to Santa. That's how the big guy knows who is naughty and who is nice, and thus determines who deserves presents on Christmas morning. We put our elf on the mantle last night, and every morning he is in a different place in the house to watch for good (or bad) behavior.
As Ryan finished the story a look of panic crept over Layla's face. I could see her mentally cataloging her recent (and upcoming?) actions and what Santa might think of them. Tears filled her eyes as she walked over to me and said, "I don't want the Elf on the Shelf."
"But then how will Santa know if you've been naughty or nice?" I replied. "Do you want me to tell him?"
"No," she said. Then she thought for a moment, and a single tear fell as she asked me, "But what if the elf tells Santa I've been naughty? Does that mean I won't get any presents?"
I hugged her and told her not to worry, that she is a good girl and the elf will surely tell Santa all of the great things she does, as long as she tries really hard to be nice. She seemed satisfied and went to bed without any hassle.
Several hours later Ryan and I heard crying from her bedroom. I ran upstairs to find her covered in sweat and sobbing into her pillow, obviously awaken from some kind of nightmare. I wrapped my arms around her and asked her what was wrong.
She lifted her head and cried out, "Daddy's trying to ruin Christmas!"
3 comments:
Ohhh that's so sad!!! I want to give her a hug! Also, on a lighter note, this is what happens when two year olds have an uncanny ability to communicate: brick houses for baby Jesus.
Oh Layla! That Weston is something too... What a ham!
Both my girls also had trouble sleeping on the first night. The elf on the shelf since has not phased Kaitlin at all, she is still plenty naughty. I've caught her talking to her (ours had to be a girl) and stealing glances when she is debating doing something she shouldn't. It has been fun but not always easy to remember to move it each night.
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