Bernard

The Littles have been in Tennessee spending the week with their Grands and Lauren. Their elf, Bernard, has been bored out of his mind since his little munchkins have been gone. No reports to write, no daily trips back to the North Pole, and no Little Girls to keep an eye on. A bored Bernard does not a good house-elf make. I've had to send the girls emails every morning to give them reports on their little mischief making man.

Their first email read:

"Girls!!!! Look what your crazy elf did last night!!!! He's getting into mischief since you're not here to keep him busy. You'd better hurry home!!!!"

When Madelyn saw this she said, "Oh.my.frickin'.gosh. That is not my house. That is not my elf. He wouldn't act that way." Memaw had to convince her. When she finally did, it was on like Donkey Kong. Lauren texted me later in the day and said that the The Littles had talked about their misbehaving elf all day long.

This was the second day, and the email read:

"Girls!!!

You'd better hurry home and get your crazy elf to behave his rotten self! He's making a MESS without his Little Girls here to keep him busy! 

I'm telling William to text Santa first thing this morning. I'd bet he's gonna be in BIG trouble with the Big Guy. Don't you?"

Apparently, that wasn't enough mischief for one day, because this was the email they got later that afternoon:




"I came back from grocery shopping today and look where I found Bernard!!!"






This was their final note:

"Okay, girls. This has gone far enough. Bernard was eating my M&M's and playing on my Facebook last night. Dad has had a talk with him and told him you were coming back home today and he had better get bad to work and stop this monkey business or he was going to talk to the Big Guy himself. I think he's going to shape up and behave!"

And that is the end of the elf shenanigans. Mr. Seriouspants takes back over the elf supervision duties tonight. He makes sure all of the little elves follow all the little rules, perform all of their little elf jobs down to every jot and tittle, and above all else, ensures that there shall be no elf mischief-making.

If you could hear my internal mumblings, you'd hear things like, "Mr. Evil Toy Santa with a tiny plastic heart rules Christmas with an iron fist and doesn't let the little elves have any fun at all and just wants everyone to be serious.serious.serious in their duties and just wants to give us all lumps of coal for being naughty." Or maybe something like, "Funsucker." But I didn't say any of those things, so you didn't hear it from me. But if you could hear me, you'd hear me giggling because I know when Mr. Seriouspants reads this he'll probably go shovel some extra coal in my stocking.