“Come and see Elfie,” my grandson greeted me on arrival at my daughter’s flat a few Decembers ago. I was immediately taken to their lounge, fragranced with pine from the Christmas tree, and shown a toy elf in hiding. Although I can’t remember exactly where now.
I had seen plenty of these red and white striped dressed whimsical dolls in the shops over recent years, and thought they were just another festive adornment, not realising they had a story to tell.
It was soon explained to me that Elfie wasn’t a toy, but was enchanted and remained motionless during the day, watching, and then reporting back to Santa Claus at the North Pole when everyone was asleep. But by morning, the kind little messenger would have flown back to another lookout post, ready to be discovered again.
I recalled seeing elf-shelf-sitter ornaments in Florida when I lived there for a few months at the end of the 1980s, including during the Advent period. Usually, the elves were made of resin or pottery. I bought a brightly painted stocking holder for the mantlepiece. The elves were different to the Christmassy bits and pieces I had seen in Britain. Unfortunately, over the decades, my special mantle hook has been lost.
Back then, they were just jolly characters. However, a book inspired by a family’s pastime of telling their elf, Fisbee, their wishes during the holiday season was written and published by American authors Carol Aebersold and her daughter Chanda Bell in 2005. Consequently, their popular story has become a modern Christmas tradition celebrated worldwide.
“Do you have an elf at your bungalow, Nanna?” my grandson asked, optimistically.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t see one this morning, but I’ll check when I get home,” I replied, being lured into the magic, and knowing there would be by his next visit.
So, this year, Chippie, a friend of Elfie’s, is back wearing a snowflake-patterned jumper, and will look sweet in his new blue striped pyjamas.
He is currently climbing on a star mobile waiting to be found. I’m going to enjoy every escapade of placing him in unusual locations until Christmas Eve, when he will mysteriously vanish until the following year.
After all, it may be the last Christmas my grandson believes in Santa Claus, and we are going to make the most of every wonderful moment.
Until next time.
Sue. X