Dear Mom/Dad/Ren,

If your mental health is hanging on by an ornamental string this holiday season and you find yourself woefully unable to keep up, you can drop the calamity that is Elf on the Shelf.

If you are stressing about what new mischief your elf can get into, you can drop it.

If you are lacking in the creativity department to come up with complex plot points, you can drop it.

If you are over-burdened with finding materials and sneaking around at night to place your elf, you can drop it.

If you find yourself comparing your elf’s lackluster shenanigans to all your Facebook frenemies and feeling bad, you can drop it.

If you’re only doing the whole Elf on a Shelf bit to appease your inner guilt that you are somehow similar to Kevin McCallister’s mom (who, by the way, was a freakin excellent, albeit overworked mom), drop it.

Yes, the Elf is cute and hilarious. Yes, it absolutely can add to the magic of the season (and I do adore the founder’s vision), but the magic only works when we are just as enthusiastic and fun ourselves.

2020 has been an absolute dumpster fire that has drained our collective creativity, patience, and hope. That might seem like a good reason to sacrifice your sleep and get up every morning at 3 AM before you commit to the arduous task of working from home or braving the public, depending, but here’s the thing: Kids find magic everywhere. Kids find hope in the simplest of things. It doesn’t have to be elaborate and it doesn’t have to use your last drop of happiness nor command overabundant guilt.

Simplification can help us appreciate the little things like sitting on the couch watching our favorite Elf, Buddy. Or making simple found crafts together. Or reading holiday classics.

I give you permission to drop it if it doesn’t bring you joy this season.

Signed,

A fellow mom whose ADHD makes it impossible to commit to 25 days of Elf antics