"Mama, can I get a little privacy here? Please?"
Well, of course you can Mags. Just not with the elf. Due to the traumatic elven experience my husband and I had last year, we vowed this year to keep an eye and ear open when the kids were around that little rascal. Yes. I said, "TRAUMATIC ELVEN EXPERIENCE." Never heard of it? It's true. I will prove it.
There we were. Christmas morning. Paper was flying. Kids were squealing. Parents were beaming with pride at their success. It was a magical morning. As the last gift was unwrapped and adored, my husband and I noticed our son's face drop like a rock. We immediately addressed his mood change. He looked up at us and said,
"I guess Santa didn't think I was a very good boy this year."
Wh-wh-wh-what? I was speechless and before I knew it, he was enveloped in my arms. My husband jumped in,
"Buddy, why would you say something like that? Look at all the awesome toys you got!".
Tuck replied, "Well, all I really wanted was the Bumblebee Battle Blaster Arm. It is all I asked Santa for."
My husband and I exchanged baffled looks mouthing to each other,
"Did he tell YOU that? NO! NOT ME! Did he tell YOU?"
Tuck then came out with it.
"I told Mowgali (our elf) and he was supposed to tell Santa for me."
More baffled looks were exchanged between my husband and I followed up by mouthing "Are you going to the store, or am I?"
So there I was, in WalMart, on Christmas morning running as fast as I could to the toy aisle saying every prayer I could remember from my 13 years of Catholic school. The white floor tile glare blinded me momentarily, but I finally reached Aisle 13. Looking, searching, panic building and then, there it was! The yellow, tube-like structure labeled "Transformer Bumblebee Blaster." I grabbed it and ran as fast as I could up to the front. I still to this day cannot tell you how much I paid for that conquest. I didn't even have her bag it.
I brought it to the car and wrapped it in his special "Santa" paper I threw in the trunk. Once it was set, I had exactly 17 minutes on the drive home to come up with a way to sneak the present into the house. I pulled into our driveway with a mediocre plan. I trusted in my husband's distracting skills enough to know I could pull the old,
"Oh, look at this rather large, oddly shaped present we missed laying under the tree" routine.
That would do, but it just wasn't magical enough.
That's when I saw it. There was about three inches of snow left on the ground from a storm a few days prior. Two sled trails were carved into our front hill from our sled rides. I realized that it looked just like Santa's sleigh had landed there.
I ran upstairs and threw the present in the slope of one the trails. Then, I pulled into the garage, caught my breath, grabbed the gallon of milk on the seat and went inside the house. (At some point in my panic, I had grabbed a gallon of milk as a cover.) I grabbed my husband by the fridge to fill him in on the plan. After a round of applause, we played it out well.
I explained to the family that when I arrived home, I thought I saw something in the snow. I had our son come over and check out the window for me. He saw the present and flipped out.
"A PRESENT. WRAPPED IN MY PAPER! IN THE SNOW! IT MUST HAVE FALLEN OUT OF SANTA'S SLEIGH!". Phew! He wasn't scarred and had a pretty fun memory to boot.
OK, Mags, to answer your question again...yes.
You may have some privacy in the bathroom, just not with the elf.
Note to self: NEVER HIDE THE ELF IN THE BATHROOM.