Even though it was Sunday, I stopped by my office yesterday to collect something as I was in the area. As a result, I got the opportunity to indulge in some Christmas mischief. I was waiting for our ride home, Hawkeye was with me, and when we walked out of the lift on our floor, we encountered the departmental Elf in his last known position by one of the couches. I picked him up.
“Oh, it’s an Elf, mummy!” Hawkeye immediately said, taking him from me. “His name is Buddy!”
I don’t know if this creche has their own Elf on a Shelf or if this is from a story, or why he has decided that the Elf’s name is Buddy, but it’s wise not to argue about these things with a four year old.
I collected my things, texted The Mister where to come get us, and then set to work with some tape, paper, and a book from our departmental mini-library. In retrospect, I probably should have selected a tome that wasn’t the most referenced book in our collection, even if we do have at least two, if not three, copies of it. While the set up elicited some great responses, at one point after lunch I found Buddy in the kitchen without the book, so I located one of our legal directories which, in the age of instant online information, is becoming less often utilised. But the joke was not diminished.
There is a barrister with whom I occasionally share some back-and-forth banter in the midst of our frequent professional communications and I sent the elf photo to him after texting the answer to a work query he had.
“We might have more work for you on behalf of the office elf soon. Or are you conflicted?”
The reply came back fairly quickly.
“Is it alleged that some of the injuries were caused by the chapter written by my wife? If so, I am conflicted.”
I am now looking forward to seeing where the elf will end up tomorrow. Sadly I don’t have any other terribly clever ideas Of course, if anyone asks about who moved Buddy over the weekend, I had nothing to do with it. I even have photo evidence that it wasn’t me:
The Feathered Rose 