So, Elf on the Shelf. I’m going to be honest here: that tiny bastard scares the bejeezus out of me.

Have you seen him? This little toy elf that you buy (I don’t know where, I assume from Hell’s gift shop) and set up every night in random places because… I think the kids are supposed to think he’s alive and reporting back to Santa.

That’s the theory. I think it’s really an excuse for moms to play with toys. No judgement here- I’m the proud owner of… one or two… *ahem*

If you haven’t seen him, google it. I’ll wait. No, not the cute squishy one, the plastic-headed one that looks like he’s going to consume your soul.

He watches you while you sleep. He thinks it’s romantic.

Look at those eyes. That little fucker KNOWS things.

So anyway, I don’t want one of those, because my dreams are surreal enough without adding something to the mix that’s clearly food for night mares. But I do want in on the fun. My kids do, too; they’re still young enough to really enjoy a little Santa magic, and a doll who’s buddies with Santa sounded like a great idea to them.

Hello, spare Monster High Ghoulia!

She lost the glasses and traded her tarty dress for something a bit cozier, and the boys named her Amy Snow. I know, the outfit looks like Cinderella’s hand-me-downs, but it took me three hours to make.

Sad, right?

Point is, the kids love her, we’re going to have a lot of fun with her, and she doesn’t give me the heebie-jeebies or whisper in my ear that I should stab things.**

I’ll post some of her adventures here. For now, here’s Amy checking out the new decorations:

** I just assume that the elf does this.