How One Annoying Toy Helped This Mama Rediscover the Magic of Christmas
Dear Ralph,
I know we didn’t get off to such a good start. I handed you over to 2-year-old Easton (uh, guess I should have read the story first to learn that whole no-touching rule). And Easton promptly stuffed your hat down his throat, gagged himself and threw up on you. From that inauspicious beginning, you were Ralph.
I let you languish each Christmas since then, left in the Rubbermaid or plopped on a literal shelf, stationary for the whole month of December. I thought you were a little creepy. I didn’t like your storybook or threatening my kids with you tattling to Santa if they didn’t behave. And I decided we weren’t going to be a family that did Elf on the Shelf, because who has time for that shit??
This mom, it turns out.
Yes, the day after Thanksgiving this year, the boys pulled you out of the “kid Christmas” bin (sorry, there’s that no-touching rule broken again) and set you under a light-up tree. That’s where you were going to stay all season long.
But somehow, you fell from your spot to the floor and the next day Easton found you and was convinced you had moved on your own. He yelled at you and told you not to be naughty or he’d punch you in the face. I was a little alarmed at his level of intensity honestly. Those aren’t the words any mom wants to hear from her 5-year-old. And then his next question was, What do you think naughty Ralph is going to do tonight?
Well, you know I can’t bear to disappoint my boys. Thus, overnight, purely by accident, we became a family that does Elf on the Shelf. And my catchphrase for the holiday season was born: F*cking Ralph.
But, Ralph, after a couple nights of pretty tame relocating around our house, the first snow of the year came and school was cancelled. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to write “Snow Day!” on the window with soap and press your little face up to the window excitedly, just as I knew my boys’ faces would be the next morning.
There was no going back now. We were all in. I had committed.
So, Ralph, while I frequently drop F-bombs in conjunction with your name as I remember to move you only after I’m already in bed for the night, I’m eating my words and offering you an apology.
You showed a mom feeling exhausted and overwhelmed this holiday season that it is the littlest things that mean so much to our children. I wasn’t feeling the Christmas spirit…until I started looking forward to Easton’s gleeful giggle each morning before 6 am. Sometimes I could literally count it down: 5…4…3…2…1… Cue the laugh of delight as he found your latest antics. Even Sawyer started crawling into my bed and asking in his charming toddler way, “What Elf do today, Mommy??”
You brought so much joy to our holiday that on Christmas Eve night, Easton asked to write a last-minute letter to Santa to see if you could stay through his birthday on the 29th. How could I say no to that?
So, thank you, Ralph. With only two more nights until Easton’s birthday left, I admit that while I won’t miss moving you at 10 pm, I will miss the wonder and whimsy you brought to December. Thank you for forcing this mama out of her Grinch mindset and reminding me the holidays are more about experiences than things. Christmas really is for the kids, and Ralph, you and I made a pretty darn good team bringing the magic for my kiddos this year.
Until next year, friend. Hope you get to put your feet up in the North Pole for a minute (because you know I don’t get to around here). And just so we’re clear, I’ll welcome you back next December with open arms…but I’m still not cooking you a Pinterest-perfect welcome breakfast with powdered-sugar snowflakes and candy canes. Every mom’s holiday cheer has its limits.
