Buster. Our elf on the shelf. His arrival has been counted down since, I think, around July. My girls LOVE Buster. He's a member of the family. They literally count him as "one of the boys" in the house, along with Daddy and Max, the dog.
I'm a little - ok, maybe a lot - in love with Buster myself. He's such a fantastic behavior moderator. I merely have to tilt my head in his direction, and the whining stops, the shoulders relax, the fights end.
Every morning the girls get up and race around the house to find where he's hidden after his nightly trip to Santa's place. They have drawn pictures for Buster to take to Santa. They talk to him very seriously, carefully negotiating just what he'll report.
Sadly, it seems he caused a little too much pressure for my littlest one. Angry as could be, she told me, "Mama, I so mad at Santa, I just so angwy at him." I was shocked - who gets mad at Santa? Before Christmas? I held it together to ask her why we were so mad at Santa.
"Because he only bwings pwesents to sweet girls, and Buster watching me, and I just can't be sweet. I just so nasty. So I not getting pwesents because I just so nasty."
I'm trying to be her cheerleader. Encouraging her that she still has time to turn things around, to pull out her sweetest sweetness. Hopefully Buster catches a glimpse of the sweetness she's having such a hard time finding.
Maybe I should send a note with him to Santa on her behalf.