On Thanksgiving night, Maddie and Katie played happily with their cousins. The grown-ups talked and laughed, with our bellies full of turkey and our hearts full of thanks.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Who could be at our door so late in the night on Thanksgiving? Maddie ran to the door, turned the deadbolt, and opened it cautiously. A sharp gust of wind blew in, and we all peered out into the silent night. “No one is there, Mommy,” Maddie said with a wrinkled brow. As she pushed the heavy door to close it against the wind, her foot landed on something hard. A book. Maddie knelt down and picked up the book. “The Elf on the Shelf book, Mommy! The Elf on the Shelf!” Maddie squealed.
Maddie, Katie, Luke, and Molly scrambled to open the book. “We used to have this book! Remember, last Christmas? We had an elf last year, Mommy!” Maddie yelled.
“Is he here? Is he here?” the kids inquired. Suddenly, they were off and running. They darted through the playroom and the dining room and the kitchen, eyes searching for the Elf.
“Elfie! Elfie!” Katie cried, pointing her tiny finger to the top of the microwave. There sat our Elf, righteously perched atop the microwave, with a twinkle in her eye.
“Don’t touch her,” I reminded the mob of children. “The book said she will lose her magic if we touch her.”
“She musta flew in when I opened the door,” Maddie explained wide-eyed.
“She did! I saw her fly in!” cousin Luke nodded.
And so it begins, another holiday season. No deed will go unnoticed when there is an elf among us, so the story goes.