Chalk and Cheese Chronicles

Elf on the Shelf

Elf on the Shelf here. Just back from a seasonal gig at some crazy Silicon Valley house. I had to monitor two boys, age 4 - twins! The mom picked me up as an impulse buy at her neighborhood toy store. It was a rocky start from the moment she lifted me out of my tidy and quiet little box. She said, "He's so tiny. I thought he'd be bigger."

Hello? I'm an elf, a person of diminutive stature. What was she expecting, a Santa sized elf? Man!

Back at her home, I toppled from the various places she tried to put me. I wanted to scream, Try the shelf! I'm Elf on the Shelf, remember? That first night, I ended up at the top of the Christmas tree from which the view was great except that my eyes are permanently glancing to the right. I need to look like I'm studying the children and not the boring ceiling. Fortunately, it was night time when I first met the children and nobody noticed my wayward gaze. They stared up at me as if I were real. One of them snapped my picture.

The following day, the mom moved me to the top of a heavy picture frame. Again, I had a great view but my eyes were fixated on the window. It hardly gives me credibility with children if I can't make eye contact with them. I made a mental note to stop by Santa's workshop and ask for some posable eyes. Wonder if that would creep the children out if I could follow them with my eyes?

One of the boys stood on tiptoe to get a better look at me. Then he insulted me by asking if I were "just a toy." While I was reeling from that remark, the other boy hurled another one by asking why I didn't have feet or shoes. (Actually, I hadn't noticed and now it does bother me a little.) The mom didn't even bother to make up a story. Do you know what she did? She agreed. She told her son he was right and that it was strange that I didn't have feet. Then she told her Twitter friends about me, the shoeless elf, and a friend wisely replied that elves don't need shoes because they fly! It's obvious my household did not read my book or they would have remembered I fly to the North Pole while the children are sleeping to report on good and bad behavior. I don't need shoes to fly, now do I?

I then spent the next few nights moving all about the house. The mom insisted upon placing me out of reach even though children know that if they touch me, I lose my magic. She even tried placing me atop the vanity mirror in the bathroom but couldn't get me to stay still and moved me out of there, thank God. There was one night when I worried I wouldn't be moved at all until the mom suddenly remembered and jumped out of bed to find me a new spot at 3 in the morning.

A couple of times, I was day dreaming when I heard my name being screamed. The mom was a little upset, "The Elf saw that! He'll tell Santa and you'll get no presents!" Wow - someone was really having naughty behavior that day and I almost didn't catch it.

Sometimes the mother couldn't get the story straight and said, "Santa is watching." Well, that's sort of true. He's watching, but only with the help of the elf minions who work down in the trenches. Without us, Santa wouldn't know a thing. He'd give presents to the naughty and coal to the nice if it weren't for us.

There was one day when the boys were being particularly naughty and I started to feel sorry for the mother. She tries with them, she really does but sometimes those boys are just out of control. I noticed that the mom says things in desperation, trying to evoke good behavior. I almost laughed when she told her kids that not only was I watching, but so, too, were Santa, Santa's cameras, the Grinch, the Gruffalo (who the heck is he?) and someone called karma. As if we all work as a team - yeah, right. I've never even met the Grinch.

I was kept busy writing down names on my list. Both boys leaped from the naughty column to the nice column and back again. On days when the boys were cranky from hunger or fatigue, my presence would only result in a temporary reform in their behavior. Sometimes, the boys would look up at me, consider their actions and go right back to doing what it was they weren't supposed to be doing. Other times, especially in the freshness of morning, the boys would immediately halt the offending behavior and apologize with sincerity.

The best part of the day was always in the morning when the children would wake up and come looking for me. I almost giggled out loud from my perch next to the children's beds when they ran out of the room without noticing me. I would play hide-n-go seek all day if I could.

I hitched a ride back to the North Pole with Santa when he came to bring presents to the boys I'd been monitoring. While I'd love to boast that my presence greatly improved behavior, I'll admit that I only helped things out some of the time. Then why did Santa come? Well, I actually grew to love the little boys in my temporary home and so I, um, cheated. I used a pencil when making my lists and let's just say I did a bit of erasing while on the job. Every child deserves presents.

Original post to Chalk and Cheese Chronicles. Akemi intends to go to Michaels to pick up some little shoes and some stick on googly eyes for the elf when he returns before Christmas next year.

8 Missed Calls Can't Be Good

I'm at Hobees, catching up with some friends (one who had some great news to share!) when I reach into my bag for my cell phone to check the time (I don't have a watch) and see I've missed 8 calls.

"Uh-oh, " I murmur, "This can't be good."

I go through the calls quickly. The first is from my boys' preschool teacher. Instantly, I assume one or both of my boys has gone on a hitting rampage at recess. But it's not that (whew), it's my Cheese Boy and he's been hurt. It's noisy at Hobees and I find it hard to change pace from the lightness of laughter with friends to the alarmed voices which spark through my phone. 

He fell from a slide...

His arm is hurting...

He vomited...

I call the preschool, and then my husband and tell them that I'm on my way. I'm not terribly concerned at this point for my boys take tumbles all the time but I prudently dial the pediatrician to see if I can get Cheese Boy in. I'm told they can't see us until 3pm and I say I'll take the slot. I bid adieu to my friends then drive through annoyingly heavy pre-lunchtime traffic toward Cheese Boy's preschool.

The drive seems to take forever.

When I finally reach the preschool, Cheese Boy is in his Dad's arms looking washed out and expressionless. The preschool director and a concerned mom of a classmate tell me he's lethargic and seems to be a little more out of it than he was initially. It seems he had hit his head as well. I look at my normally chipper little guy and for the first time, feel alarmed.

"Let's head to the ER, " I tell my husband, as I steer the car into the rush of noontime traffic.

Forever and a day later, we check into the ER. Cheese Boy is better, smiling a bit and responding to all our questions, even reciting his phone number. We are lucky, the ER is not busy. Nurses and technicians pop in and out of our partitioned quarters. Grandma shows up with brand new dinosaur from D&J hobby. Cheese Boy grins. He is clearly relishing all the attention.

A nice female doctor with curly hair enters the room and looks Cheese Boy over. He provides detailed answers to all of her questions. We laugh because we know his injuries probably aren't serious if he can be so engaging. The doctor notices a bit of swelling on Cheese Boy's right arm, near the elbow. He should have an xray of that arm, she tells us, and also one of his head because of the vomiting.

Cheese Boy is excited to be getting an xray. He wants to see his bones! He's beyond pleased when he discovers he gets to travel to his xray via a wheelchair! Daddy goes with him. I send Grandma home and then leave to retrieve my other little guy (Chalk Boy) from preschool. Juggle, juggle.

At preschool, Chalk Boy is disappointed to see me. If I hadn't shown up, he'd have gone to the home of a schoolmate for a play date. I lure him back to our car and interrogate him because no adults had witnessed the fall. Chalk Boy immediately says that a boy from the other class had pushed Cheese Boy over the slide. "Really?" I say, "Are you sure it was that kid?" The kid in question doesn't seem nearly as physical as my boys, so I'm surprised.

I drop Chalk Boy off with my parents and zoom back to the hospital to rejoin Cheese Boy, his new dino and his dad. He is clutching spiderman stickers, a gift from the hospital. Cheese Boy has been discharged, with orders to watch him carefully and administer Tylenol as needed. He is ravenous and devours the snacks I've brought.

In the car, I question Cheese Boy. "What happened? How did you fall?" His story corroborates that of his brother's. He'd been climbing UP the slide when a kid from the other class pushed him over. He names the boy and the names match. The boy is someone whose name they rarely mention so I know they are telling the truth.

Still, I'm wise enough to know not to judge. Having been the mom to two active boys for 4 years, I know that tables could have easily been turned. On another day, my boys could have been the one to send a kid tumbling over the sides of that slide. Oh how I know it.

After the incident later that day, the preschool explained the playground rules to all of the students. Hopefully, it won't happen again.

I can't wait to see the ER bill. Maybe I won't be so forgiving if we get stuck paying a sizable amount of money. But seeing my boys happy and healthy is, of course, priceless.

Original post to Chalk and Cheese Chronicles. Akemi also blogs at SV Moms Blog and Mad About Multiples.

Chalk Boy, artist

 

This is what you get when a 4-year-old takes your picture with his new Vtech Kidizoom Camera.

Location: Fort Point, San Francisco

This is how Chalk Boy sees Daddy, as one hairy dude!

 

Robot

Flowers

I love and appreciate how art can billow out of a boy who tries my patience at times. It makes me smile.

Original post to Chalk and Cheese Chronicles.