I am glad the Elf on a Shelf was not a thing when I was a kid. A spy in my house watching me and reporting back to Santa every night and then getting into some sort of mischief in the house while I slept (who’s reporting to Santa on all the Shelf Elf shenanigans, hmm?)—no thank you.
I found something worse than the EoaS in my mom’s basement last weekend: this clown. I don’t know where it came from or why she has it. I do know I don’t like the way it’s looking at me or reaching out with its oversized mitten hand.
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