Some might think that being one of Santa’s Elves is all sugarplums and snowball fights, but it’s a lot more work than that.
My day starts at the crack of dawn, or what would be considered dawn if the sun came up at the North Pole. I rise from my bed and dress in my favorite colors: green and red. I eat a nutritious breakfast of waffles with tons of syrup and hot cocoa to wash it down.
I then leave my house in the elf village to go to work. Santa is kind enough to provide minuscule houses for all of his workers; they don’t fit so well for the tall elves like me, though.
Some days, I draw the short straw and I have to take care of Santa’s reindeer. Although that poem “The Night before Christmas” says one thing, there are way more deer in the herd than eight, and they aren’t tiny either. Imagine scooping after 50 or so 700-pound animals. After cleaning the barn up, I then take Dasher, Dancer, Prancer and the rest out to pasture for the day. Reindeer duty is definitely not my favorite job.
Of course, all elves love to build toys. I hold the record for fastest teddy bear stuffer, and I am also one of the top action figure assemblers. The workshop is nice and toasty on those frosty winter days, and we elves get plenty of cookie and cocoa breaks.
Other days I get assigned to letter checking duty or gift-wrapping, but once in a while, an elf gets to do the best job of all—which is the role of Santa’s helper. As we get closer to December 25th, Santa starts making trips down South, and he always brings an elf along to help.
The day after Thanksgiving, Santa, Mrs. Claus, and I all flew down to Shepherdstown, W.Va. to visit all of the good little girls and boys. That day I chose my brightest green and red outfit and donned my curliest hat to make sure I looked my merriest.
Mrs. Claus and I visited with all the children while Santa got ready for them. It was quite chilly out since I had my green elf tights on, but those little youngsters just warmed my heart.
Santa finally arrived in the center of town, and Mrs. Claus shuffled him inside. I kept the quickly forming mob of fans at bay.
At last it was time. One by one, the little ones came inside and whispered their desires in Santa’s ear. I took their hands and led them up to him, and I made sure each one had a candy cane before they left. After they were gone, Santa quickly had to tell me what they asked for so I could write it down on the Nice List. He’s got a good memory, but even Santa needs a backup.
When the last tiny child had hugged Mr. Claus and said goodbye, I went and packed up the sleigh with the list and all of Santa’s extra snacks. We flew into the frosty night back up to the North Pole, and I climbed into bed and yes, visions of sugarplums did dance in my head.
That was my favorite day so far in my career as an elf, and at 219, I’m still quite young. Hopefully I can come back to Shepherdstown with Santa and Mrs. Claus next year and see how all the children have grown.
I know that many are skeptical and no longer believe in old Kris Kringle, but I think everyone should rethink that disbelief this year. Trust me when I say that Santa knows if someone has been naughty or nice. After all, I’m the one who wraps the gifts and packs the coal. Santa Claus and his elves are real; take it from me, because I’m one of them.
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