The force is strong in our house so after getting the Lego City advent calendar last year, this year it had to be Star Wars. Me and my husband spend a while tracking one down last week only to locate a pile in an independent toy shop that didn’t have advertise the fact they stocked them on their website, while all the chain shops were sold out. Yay for independent retailers and us getting our mitts on one, but boo for a lack of business acumen.
Brain had found the calendar first and was plotting his world domination but where was Pinky gone? In his place was Mr Old Elf, our friendly neighbourhood Santa’s-Little-Helper.
Dominic, nearly six, picked him up and whirled him around. He cuddled him, welcomed him, gleefully announced Elf would sleep in his bed tonight then quickly backtracked because he knows Elf goes off to the North Pole to report back to Santa at night time. He told me excitedly about a book at his after school club with the ‘zact same elf in it, because don’t a lot of the elves probably wear the same mammy? He believes fiercely in the whole thing
Ted, about three and half, and a Junior member of the Irish Skeptics Society (it exists) cocked his head, screwed up his face and said “That’s a teddy not a real elf. He doesn’t talk Dom”.
Welcome Mr Old Elf. It’s good to have you back.