“You don’t have an elf?!” asked a surprised friend one December while our preschoolers were wrapping up a playdate.

I wasn’t very deft, apparently, at hiding my frustration with my son, who kept deflecting my instructions to clean up toys he’d been playing with. My parental lessons that it was important to leave with good manners so that we would be invited back to play again were just beginning to take root in my son’s developing psyche, and my mom-friend must have figured I could use a little help getting my kid to toe the line — namely, from an Elf on the Shelf.

She told me about the now-famous book and its jaunty little stuffed toy. The elf would observe her kids’ behavior all day, then magically fly home to the North Pole to file a report with Santa each night. Each morning, the elf would mysteriously reappear in a new spot inside her house, ready to gather more intel on her kids’ every behavioral success or transgression — all of which would influence the quantity and quality of the kids’ Christmas haul.

I know she was just trying to help me out but, really?

As in: Your kids only behave because they think someone is watching them, and that’s the only way to get presents.

And also — ew — a creepy, unblinking doll that comes alive and moves around your house at night? Am I the only one here who saw “Poltergeist”?

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We spend hours throughout the year teaching our kids that you can’t knock over their friend Jack’s block tower because destroying his hard work will hurt his feelings. Then Jack won’t want to play with you anymore. So why do we suddenly offload this moral responsibility to Santa when the potential for Christmas presents hangs in the balance?

Good behavior shouldn’t be contingent upon being watched — nor on getting caught. We don’t want our kids to do the right thing because they think someone is watching them. We want them to do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do.

But the Elf on the Shelf’s purpose is in direct opposition to this goal: In a December 2014 article, “Who’s The Boss?” published by the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives, authors Laura Pinto and Selena Nemorin point out that the prescribed rules of the Elf on the Shelf obscure the intrinsic motivation for good behavior and blur the line between play and real-life, normalizing the idea of 24-hour surveillance.

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“Under normal circumstances, children’s behavior (i.e., what is ‘naughty’ and what is ‘nice’) is situated in social contexts and mediated by human beings (peers, parents, and teachers) where the child conceptualizes actions and emotions in relation to other people and how they feel. … What is troubling is what The Elf on the Shelf represents and normalizes: Anecdotal evidence reveals that children perform an identity that is not only for caretakers, but for an external authority (The Elf on the Shelf), similar to the dynamic between citizen and authority in the context of the surveillance state.”

Lies, Lies
When my kids were very young, I encouraged them to leave cookies on the mantle on Christmas Eve, and that a few packages labeled “From Santa” would appear under the tree on Christmas morning.

But by the time they were old enough to ask questions about this, I always tried to reflect the questions back at them without dismantling any magic. “Hmmm… Why do you think Santa doesn’t set off our motion-sensor alarm when he comes down the chimney?”

I wanted to maintain the sense of wonder of the season for them, but the Elf on the Shelf bill of goods falls outside my personal comfort zone of fibbing.

Plus, I know myself too well. Between holiday shopping, house decorating, and thoughtful gift-making, there is a high probability I would forget to move that elf. Surely I would get caught in my own lie faster than my kids were ready to stop believing it. And when they find out that the elf isn’t watching — what then? Do they start cultivating a reckless disregard for rules?

Or after they find out I was lying to them, will they trust the real, important cautionary tales I share with them?

In his December 2012 article for Psychology Today, “Let’s Bench The Elf on the Shelf,” David Kyle Johnson wrote:

“Your children rely on you to give them accurate information about the way the world is, and you should want them to trust and believe what you say. But finding out that you have been lying to them — and even been playing an elaborate joke on them (for example by moving the elf yourself, but telling them it moves on its own) — has the possibility of significantly eroding their ability to trust you. What else might you be lying about, or tricking them into believing?”

Nearing the end of elementary school — and well after they had learned to leave a play date with good manners (no elf-help needed) — my kids started to put the pieces together about Santa. Once they started asking more pointed questions, I realized they were ready for the truth, and I gave it to them gently. In exchange, I planted the seed of a thought that the magic of Christmas isn’t about a mysterious man who judges you and gives you presents accordingly. It’s about finding the angels around us every day — and about being that angel for someone else, too.

I watched their little faces as they deconstructed memories of elaborate Christmases past, bracing for their disappointment. Instead, they turned their wide eyes up at me.

“Wait — you mean, you and Dad have been doing all that stuff for us? Thank you!”

Proving that sometimes angels turn up in the most unexpected places.

Read our earlier piece on this topic: The Tyranny of the Elf on the Shelf.