Attracted To Shiny Things: Who says love and trauma are mutually exclusive?; or "Santa's Little Narc."

Tonight, I got a text from my friend Shirley, telling me about some dumbass craze that's sweeping the country. Elf on the Shelf.

Have you heard of it? If so, you probably have one in your home. If not, it's basically like subjecting your children to McCarthyism for a month. Only Joe is wearing an elf hat. And ladies underwear (but only if you believe that rumor, of course.)

What's Victoria's Secret? ME. And I'm STILL watching you.

Anyway, I googled this elf/shelf thing and that's when I realized something.

Elves are assholes.

I decided to put my deductive reasoning skills to the test, and I came up with the following:

1. If some parents buy these elves.
2. And the elves are assholes.
3. Then some parents just might be assholes.

Not sure if you're ~~an obsessive~~ a loving parent, an asshole parent or somewhere in between? Then take my quiz!

1. If I owned an Elf-on-the-shelf I would:

A. Read the Elf story to my child every night before bestowing Eskimo/butterfly kisses on his/her face, and quietly tiptoeing out of the bedroom.
B. Thoughtfully position the Elf on an easily accessible piece of furniture, take a photo of it for my child's scrapbook, and then make sure I'm in bed by 10pm sharp.
C. Have a ~~few~~ lot of glasses of wine before deciding to make snow angels on the kitchen counter with the elf and a handful of flour. Then post the pix on twitter before passing out in a drunken stupor on my bathroom floor:

What do you mean, I have to "hold it" until morning???

2. My personal mantra is:
A. My child is a precious gift, and my duty as a parent is to protect his/her sacred innocence. At any cost. Also? My child has a Spirit Animal.
B. Yeah, I love my kid. But who says love and emotional trauma are mutually exclusive? Besides, if I mess with my kid, it toughens them up for the real world.
C. Back off! My parents locked me in a box every night for 8 years and I turned out JUST FINE!!!

3. Something I think about often is:
A. Knowing I would DIE for my child. Several times in a row, if I could.
B. Sure, I love my kids. But I need some me time too, you know?
C. If you mix up the letters in "Santa's Elf", it spells "Satan Self."

You know the drill, mostly A's? You're a living saint. A martyr. And your child will probably have Mommy Issues. Let's just hope he doesn't turn out like Norman Bates.