The downsides are the occasional bout of night terrors, and her concerns about someone called 'the woo', who apparently lives under the headboard of her bed.
The upside is that she is constantly entertaining herself.
She can play Doctor with a chopstick and some salad servers as her surgical equipment. Two boxes are her 'robot shoes'.
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| 'I'm wearing my robot shoes' |
This workout equipment on the greenbelt near our house is alternately a seesaw, and her house - so you have to knock before entering.
Cushions are stepping stones. The cardboard tube from the roll of Christmas wrapping paper is a horse, and sometimes a broomstick.
Most inanimate objects can be talked to. The turtle candle holder on our outside table gets a blow by blow account of cars passing by. Her toy moose is instructed to watch her jumping. And her favourite, 'Doggie', apparently insists on being cuddled during the scary bits of The Gruffalo's Child.
Yet, despite reading the story, moving the stupid thing every night, and telling him if she's being good in a stage whisper, she has absolutely no interest in communicating with the Elf on the Shelf.
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| Me: 'Look, that cheeky elf is eating a banana chip!' Lady P (apathetically): 'Uh huh'. |
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