The Naughty List

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Jingle bells, 

Batman smells,

Robin laid an egg.

The Bat-mobile,

lost a wheel,

and the Joker got away.

Tragic.

I learned that little ditty from my older brothers. I remember singing it, ad nauseam, until my brothers regretted ever teaching it to me. I was six years old and up until then I had been a trouble-free child. But that year I discovered my independence, and began to delight in the sounds of exasperation from my mother whenever I misbehaved. My brother Tom had always been the problem child and reveled at the idea that I, our mom's sweet angel, was not so perfect. He went so far as to insinuate that a few of his past misdeeds were mine. I didn't care that parental anger was misdirected, until the threat of spanking was introduced.

My illicit activities were curtailed for a short time, but soon I discovered the threat held no real punishment. The one time I actually did receive a slap, it hurt my mother’s hand more than my fleshy bottom.

My illicit activities were finally curtailed that Thanksgiving when the Elf on the Shelf appeared on the mantle over the fireplace. At first, I thought it was just another Christmas decoration, sitting there with its long spindly legs, a red elf hat, and huge eyes that saw everything. He made the room smell like cinnamon. Tom informed me that this was Santa's spy. He told me the elf would watch a particular child all day, then report her behavior to Santa. If you were good, you would be put on the nice list and you would receive a toy for Christmas. If you were bad, your name would end up on the naughty list, and you received a lump of coal in your Christmas stocking.

If only I could have reached him, the Elf on the Shelf might have had an accident, like falling into the fireplace while it was lit. Christmas morning finally arrived and I found a black plastic piece of coal in my stocking (courtesy of my brother). From then on I was very good. Or, at least, I was never caught again. Even today I keep an eye out for that little fellow with spindly legs wearing a red elf hat just in case Santa is still watching me. Although I thought this practice was cruel when I was a child, I must admit, over the years I have employed the Elf on the Shelf to keep my own kids in line. At least for awhile.

Note: This is a repost.