Jingle and Jangle The Mischievous Christmas Elves

The following is a fictional work. Any similarities to persons are purely coincidental...well actually, it was inspired by my own experiences as a child and again as a mother. I was asked by the Relief Society to write a Christmas memory and mom thought you'd all enjoy reading it. I really am grateful to be part of such a big, awesome family. I was reading this story to Will this morning and he said, "you had eight brothers and sisters! That would be like having a cousin party every night!" Thanks big brothers, Steve, Rick, and Dave, for making Christmas magical for me as a child and never letting me in on the secret until I was old enough to be the elf myself.
p.s. I will miss being all together this Christmas!
****

As soon as the snow began falling and the smell of Mom's gingerbread cookies was in the air, we Bentley children started catching glimpses of Jingle and Jangle, the mischievous Christmas elves. Sometimes I would spot the tip of a bright green hat flying around the corner, other times I would see tiny footprints under a tree, but most of the time I would have just missed the illusive little creatures and I'd have to hope for faster eyes next time.

All eight brothers and sisters got to sleep together in one room on Christmas Eve. The excitement and anticipation in the air was immeasuable as we contemplated the happy possibilities that Christmas morning held for us. Quiet would finally settle aroudn us with the promise of a story about Jingle and Jangle, the Christmas elves. As we lay down under a pile of thick pile of blankets in the middle of the floor, my older brother Rick spun the most fantastic stories.

Jingle and Jangle were always getting into some mishap or another as they went to and from our house checking to see if we were eating our veggies and minding our mother. There was the time that they narrowly escaped death when Giles, the neighbor’s straggly-haired cat mistook them for mice and chased them viciously until they managed to outsmart him with only a roll of toilet paper and some spatulas. Another time, they had too much eggnog and took a wrong turn on their way to the North Pole, ending up in Bermuda. They happily exchanged their pointy elf shoes (which were rumored to pinch like crazy) for a pair of flip-flops and sat on the beach drinking pina coladas for a whole afternoon until at last, they unselfishly decided to live a life of sacrifice “for the children’s sake” and return to their elfly duties, putting off their dreams of comfortable feet until retirement.

It was about two-thirds of the way through the story when Steve, my oldest brother, who was a teenager by now, would say, “I can’t believe you guys still believe in elves!” “If there really is such a thing as elves, how come I’ve never seen one?” “It’s because you don’t believe as good as we do,” little Jimmy would pipe up matter-of-factly. Then in his most disgusted teenager voice, Steve would say, “I’m going to my own room to get some sleep.” Slightly disenchanted, we’d return to our story until a few minutes later, we’d hear the magical sound of jingle bells! Screams of pure joy would erupt through the air as we hunted excitedly for the elves annual Christmas Eve surprise. Soon we’d find a stash of candy or seven cups of hot chocolate (Steve was overlooked by the elves for his lack of faith) and we’d finish the night, evermore convinced of the reality of those mischievous Christmas elves. Returning from his stealth mission, Steve would tell us it was time to go back to bed as we’d proudly inform him about what he’d missed out on.

So every Christmas Eve though I am sleep-deprived an weary, I take the place of my big brother and spin the enchanting stories for my own children until one by one, they all fall asleep, dreaming of Jingle and Jangle and the magic of Christmas as only a child can experience it.


Kathy