The Demented Elf

The best thing about Christmas coming? Soon I will no longer have to undergo this Advent calendar torture.

I know, no one forced me to buy one of these calendars where you supply the treat/surprise yourself. I went down this road because I had one as a kid, and I absolutely adored it. The surprises probably weren’t all that amazing (I only remember the candy) but it was so incredibly exciting to find something hidden inside the little matchboxes. My Mom had of course made the calendar herself. Ours is store-bought, but the ease is deceptive.

Man. For someone with my (lack of) memory, having to remember to supply a surprise every single night between the short period of time after the boys have gone to bed and before I go to bed is a nightmare. This is also often the time that I write and my mind is on other matters.

The kids of course have been fooled into thinking that elves are the ones who bring these little surprises. They wouldn’t be surprised if I forgot, but I can only imagine how devastated they would be if the elves neglected to pay them a visit. Even now, the elves have sometimes been careless and mistaken the date, but luckily the boys have detected it instantly. I’ve told them the elves are testing them.

So thank God it’s almost over. We’ve managed it every time up till here, which is something of a miracle. Once I’ve jumped up in bed my heart nearly stopping before dashing off downstairs to search the cupboards for some chocolate. Once we woke up to the realization that there was nothing in the calendar and hubby only just barely managed to creep downstairs while I stalled the kids. That calendar.

Next year, we’ll probably do it all over again since the kids love the calendar, and I have to admit that even for all the grief it causes, I still think it’s nicer than the commercial ones. Who knows, with my rotten memory, maybe this is the one thing that keeps me from slipping into full-blown dementia.