Santa Saved My A$$

lindsaympost
3 days ago
6 min read

There are a few universal truths of parenting during the holiday season:

You WILL buy at least one roll of wrapping paper that absolutely sucks and tears if you so much as breathe on it wrong.
You WILL find a rogue ornament that was broken without your knowledge or supervision (obviously).
And your Elf on the Shelf WILL, at some point, forget to move—and your entire reputation as the Guardian of Christmas Magic will hang in the balance.

This year, that moment belonged to our elf, Cookie. And Cookie…failed me.

Well—technically I failed Cookie. But I refuse to take full accountability during December. There’s simply too much happening.

The Tradition: Santa Calls…and Uncle Ronnie “Misses” It Every Single Time

Before we get to the crisis, you need to understand a long-standing family tradition: My oldest brother calls our kids (and our niece) every Christmas Eve pretending to be Santa.

It started years ago, and to this day, the kids still haven’t connected the dots that he is never in the room when these magical phone calls occur. Poor Uncle Ronnie… the man misses Santa’s call every year. Tragic!

But the calls serve two very important purposes:

Chad and I get to slip Santa any last-minute “corrections” (“Stop eating all the Christmas cookies.”“Quit putting glitter in your brother’s hair.”“For the love of the North Pole, TAKE A BATH.”)
The kids deliver their final pitch for the Nice List.

It’s a well-oiled system. A sacred communication pipeline. Honestly, we should patent it.

Enter Cookie… the Elf Who Simply Forgot to Elf

Now, our elf Cookie is usually reliable. Mischievous? Absolutely. Creative? Occasionally. Committed to his nightly commute to the North Pole? Historically, yes.

But this year?

Cookie phoned it in.

Literally did not move.

I heard the pitter-patter of little feet, sat straight up in bed with the kind of adrenaline rush normally reserved for earthquakes and toddler vomit, and sprinted toward the living room.

Too late.

Bennett was already there, tablet in hand, photographing the crime scene like the world’s smallest investigative journalist.

“Cookie has never NOT moved,” he said, zooming in for evidence.“I’m going to have to ask Santa about this.”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

In my mind, I immediately saw the whole belief system unraveling:

Christmas magic? Dead.
Childhood innocence? Gone.
Future therapy bills? Through the roof.
And all because I forgot to relocate a plush elf with Velcro hands.

Not on my watch.

Operation: Save Christmas

In a panic, I grabbed my phone and texted my brother—the man listed in my contacts as SANTA at all times, because you never know when you’ll need emergency holiday backup.

(Screenshots included for the receipts.)

Within seconds, he replied.

Within minutes, he called.

And just like that, Santa swooped in and saved my entire ass.

The phone rang…We gasped…“Santa??” Bennett whispered with full-body excitement.

And Santa—who sounded suspiciously like someone we'd met but with more bass and holiday gravitas—explained everything:

Elves are mischievous.
Cookie felt the kids were finding him too quickly.
SO, he decided to hide in the last place they’d look—the place he was already in.
This was a strategic decision, and one he did not take lightly as his pose required “exceptional core strength” to hold all day.

Benny nodded slowly, processing this advanced elf psychology.

We stayed on the phone for 10 magical minutes before politely acknowledging Santa’s extremely busy schedule. (It is December, after all.)

And friends…

I think it worked.

Belief: restored.

Cookie: redeemed.

My parental holiday credibility: intact for another 24 hours.

In Conclusion: Thank God for Brothers Who Commit to the Bit

Cookie may be running out of steam, but Santa—AKA Uncle Ronnie—still has it.

And listen… when it comes to preserving childhood wonder, it truly takes a village:

One mom ready to sprint across the house, half-conscious.
One brother prepared to drop everything and become Santa on command.
One determined kid gathering photographic evidence.
And one exhausted elf who really, truly needs to tighten up his performance.

But in this family?

Christmas magic lives another day.

And thank God—because I refuse, under any circumstances, to be the Grinch responsible for ruining it.

Mini-Message:

Even the most magical moments of childhood sometimes require a little behind-the-scenes improvisation—and occasionally, a brother willing to play Santa on command. This is a story about dropped balls, quick thinking, familial commitment to the bit, and the fierce determination to keep Christmas magic alive.

Munchies:

To promote improved creativity, movement, and nightly job performance, Cookie will receive:

A balanced diet of miniature carbs,
Occasional festive sugar,
And one emotional support marshmallow as needed.

He is not authorized to request Whole30, intermittent fasting, or oat milk lattes.

We are working with the North Pole Union to clarify expectations. For now, he will be served:

One (1) stale mini marshmallow found under the couch cushions (Aged to perfection.)
Three Cheerios stuck together (Elves call this a “breakfast cluster.”)
Half a gummy bear (Red only. Yellow is beneath him.)
A singular chocolate chip (Presented like a Michelin-star amuse-bouche.)
Goldfish cracker crumbs from the bottom of a cup (A delicacy in the toy room ecosystem.)
The last bite of a granola bar someone refused to finish (Organic. Probably.)
One frosted flake from the part of the bag that’s mostly dust (Seasoned with childhood wonder—and air.)
A whisper of cocoa powder on a plate (Because elves are tiny but dramatic.)
The sprinkles that fell off a cookie you were trying to decorate (Chef’s kiss.)

Movement Exercise:

This whole ordeal reminded me of something we practice often in my classes:

When in doubt, pivot with purpose.

When things fall apart, adjust with humor.

When the moment calls for creativity, JUST MOVE.

That morning required the fastest full-body activation I’ve done all December. (It should have counted as a workout on my Apple Watch.)

But it also required emotional agility—the ability to shift from panic to problem-solving to laughter in record time.

And magic won.

Because the adults moved.

Because Santa called.

Because my big bro committed to the role like an Oscar nomination depended on it.

And because kids want to believe—and we get to help them keep the door cracked open.

Music Reco:

“I’ll Be There For You” (Friends theme) — the Ronnie anthem.

Add a little sleigh bell underscore, and it’s practically a Hallmark special.

Mind-Bender:

What do we do when we’re suddenly confronted with the possibility that something we’ve lovingly built might crumble?

A belief, a tradition, a sense of wonder—we guard them for our kids because they matter. But there’s also a deeper truth here:

Magic isn’t something we protect for them. Magic is something we co-create with them.

And sometimes? Magic looks like sprinting through the house in pajamas, catastrophizing at 7:02 a.m., and panic-texting your brother labeled “SANTA” in your phone.

—

Cookie’s Performance Review

An HR File From the North Pole

Employee Name: Cookie

Position: Household Elf, Division of Domestic Cheer

Supervisor: Lindsay Post

Review Period: December 1–25

Status: Questionably Employed

Category 1: Creativity

⭐⭐☆☆☆ (2/5)

Early December: strong start. One solid curtain climb, one candy cane lean, one questionable yoga pose. Late December: crashed harder than a toddler at 2 p.m.

Comments: Displays potential but lacks stamina. May require supplemental Pinterest exposure.

Category 2: Reliability

⭐☆☆☆☆ (1/5)

Historically punctual and dedicated to nightly “North Pole commuting.” This year: absolutely forgot to move. Did not even attempt a cover story. Left me to die.

Comments: Elf failed upward due to emergency Santa intervention. Should not rely on this as a pattern.

Category 3: Mischief Execution

⭐⭐⭐☆☆ (3/5)

Standard elf chaos delivered. Points deducted for repeating hiding spots and assuming “they won’t notice.”

Comments: 7-year-olds ALWAYS notice. Does not grasp high-level child surveillance dynamics.

Category 4: Core Strength

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (5/5)

According to Santa himself, Cookie held an advanced static pose for 24 hours.

Comments: If only the creativity matched the abs.

Category 5: Crisis Management

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (5/5)

When confronted with photographic evidence, Cookie stayed silent and did not incriminate himself. Let Santa handle the public relations.

Comments: Strong composure under pressure. Excellent poker face.

Overall Rating:

⭐⭐⭐☆☆ (3/5)

Needs improvement, but redeemable when supported by a robust family elf-care system and access to emergency Santa calls.

Recommendations for Next Season

Re-enroll in Elf Development courses: “Advanced Hiding Techniques,” “Improvisation 101,” and “How Not to Get a Parent Cancelled.”
Build endurance. Consider barre classes.
Communicate better with management. Early-warning texts appreciated.
DO NOT REPEAT A LOCATION UNLESS YOU CAN JUSTIFY IT WITH OLYMPIC-LEVEL CORE STRENGTH.