Elf On The Shelf Is Ruining My Marriage

I surmise he's ruined many a marriages, not just mine.

(If these kids had any sense, they'd realize no one can afford to travel that frequently. Not in Biden's America).

Kids wake up in the morning and the elf is supposed to have moved to a different location from the previous day. If not, all hell breaks loose: "Is he mad at me?" "Is he sick?" "Why didn't he move?"

Cue the tears…

He's also supposed to serve as a sort of watchdog/tattletale, reporting back to the fat guy in the red suit, nightly, that your kid(s) have been naughty or nice.

The premise isn't so bad, but the act of being Elf on the Shelf's handler is downright exhausting and the pay is terrible.

Elf on the Shelf has weaseled his way into Fox Sports. (Photo by Stacy Revere/Getty Images).

And, as I mentioned above, it's ruining my wedded bliss.

See, I have two kids, one of whom is still very much a believer. And my wife insists that our Elf make his yearly debut Thanksgiving night. Damn near a full month before the big day. *There are no hard rules for when one's elf is scheduled to arrive each year. Some families are a month out, others a couple of weeks, or even just a few days.

Not this household. The Mrs. insists on an early arrival. She's fired up to hide the elf the first two, maybe three nights. And then, it magically becomes my responsibility. She's essentially the Ben Simmons of this operation, showing up the first week of the season before opting for street clothes.

When it comes to hiding the elf, my wife is essentially Ben Simmons. (Simmons Photo/Getty Images).

What all this means is: I have to wait out the kids going to bed, avoid falling asleep in the recliner, remember to move the damn elf, and most importantly - transport him to a different spot.

I live in a ranch. There's only so many places this plastic pain in the ass can put down roots.

At least once a week I forget to move the elf. True story, I forgot again last night. What follows is a frantic morning of my wife waking me up, hitting me, giving me the evil eye and scolding me for failing to move Elf on the Shelf.

Keep in mind, I never volunteered for this job, it was bestowed upon me.

Silent treatment ensues and dirty looks are much more present than any yule logs. All because of that stupid little elf.

Tensions are high in this house.

Bah humbug.

*This article originally appeared as part of an earlier version of OutKick's Nightcaps*

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