Elf Drama

This morning the unthinkable happened…

Carter touched the Elf!

He came into our room saying “Um, guys, I found Kebbie.  He’s on the dining room table.  I touched him.”

I was half asleep still but when I heard that I bolted upright.

“What?  You touched him?  Did you really?  You know he loses his magic if you do that.  Why would you touch him?”

“Because I could easily reach him.”

Oh, well then…yeah, if you can reach him then that’s a different story.  In that case you should totally just screw with the powerful forces of Elf Magic…no big deal.  Do you have no soul?

I still thought he might be kidding so my husband went downstairs with him and asked him to recreate the touching scenario.  And he did it again!  Like, all casual and stuff. 

I’m sorry, have I been killing myself to scare the shit out of you with that doll for nothing? 

I’ve tried to be a decent parent (sort of) but despite of all my efforts… I’m raising an Elf Toucher! 

I hope the other moms around town don’t get word of this.  I can’t take the staring and whispering behind my back.  When he commits his first felony they’ll interview the neighbors: “Oh, we totally saw this coming.  We knew he was a bad ass from a pretty early age.  Did you know what he did when he was FOUR?  HE TOUCHED HIS ELF!”

He headed off to school and I was left trying to come up with a solution to the problem.  I got some online advice about calling Santa, sprinkling magic dust on him, telling Carter the Elf died…stuff like that…

I finally decided to tell the kids that Kebbie is sick from being touched.  I set him up next to the scene of the crime.  I even added a little note to boost my credibility:

What?  Too much?

 

Carter came home from school and I showed him the consequences of his actions.  I had no game plan as to how I was going to make the Elf well again but I thought I could wing it.  I wanted to see if he even cared that he had put Kebbie at deaths door.

Turns out he did. 

First he suggested that we sprinkle some magic on some snacks and feed them to Kebbie.  I asked where he was planning to get the magic from…he said a magician could do it.  Obviously.  I’ll just grab the next magician I see walking down the street.

Well, magic or not, he was set on the snack idea.  He also gave Kebbie his favorite guy to snuggle up with in hopes that would make him feel better:

 

He truly thought this was his best idea ever...

 

Then he decided to share his sandwich with him: 

 

How does that saying go?  Feed a cold, starve a fever, cure unmagical Elves with ham?

Then: “Mom!  I’ve got a great idea!  We can give Kebbie toys to play with.  That will make him feel better!”

He included a guitar so Kebbie could rock out if he wanted to...

And the toys kept coming.  Because more toys clearly equals more chance that he will not be on Santa’s shit list for ‘effing up one of the Elves:

Desparation is beginning to sink in

 

He even tried to bribe him:



Dude...I will pay you THREE CENTS to get the hell up and pretend none of this ever happened!

He also suggested letting Kebbie sleep in his bed and, my personal favorite…he asked me to put Kebbie in my car and drive him to the Dockside…which is Carter’s favorite restaurant and also a popular local bar. If cheap burgers and beer don’t make you feel better then I simply do not know what will!!

I think Kebbie is going to make a miraculous recovery tonight.  The fact that he keeps talking about how to heal the Elf made me happy.  I mean, he truly felt bad and was suffering.  Which is what all this crap is about, right?  Making your children suffer?