Last year about this time, we were visited.
By an elf.
From the North Pole.
Oh yeah. She just broke right into our apartment — came down the chimney, I suppose? — and we came home to find…. this.
It was disturbing to come home to find that AN ELF had just made herself at home, began unpacking Christmas decorations and…. dragging them up the stairs.
And not just to us…. the American Girls were a little freaked out too…. we came home to find the poor girls huddled on the stairs, watching, afraid…
But fortunately, the elf had brought a note explaining who she was and that Santa had sent her to our house to be our Elf for Christmas. God bless sweet Santa; he meant well…
Her name was Paula, the letter said, but Katie Beth couldn’t quite sound out that word so it came out ‘Paloola.’ And Paula/Paloola decided she liked that name better, because the name that’s given to you by the kids is the most special name of all.
made herself a little too comfortable. She took over the girls’ bedroom, took all the Groovy Girls’ furniture for herself, and … decorated their room for Christmas.
And not only that… she would bake things in the middle of the night. I came downstairs many-a-morning to find an absolute MESS in the kitchen.
The kids loved her, though. They played with her every day and were sad when Christmas came and went and Paloola had to return to the North Pole.
They started weeks ago writing her letters in anticipation of this years’ visit.
And guess what.
I heard a noise in the girls’ room the other night, and went in to find this…
That’s right. That blasted elf was playing Hungry Hungry Hippos in the middle of the night.
And being a bad influence on our sweet American Girls, who NEVER make a peep, and NEVER get in trouble.
Oh dear. Here we go again…