DEAR Jasminda,

My wife has become obsessed with competing with her friends in increasingly time-consuming and expensive Elf on the Shelf ideas.

She spends so much time working out what the Elf will do next, that she is running late for work, forgetting appointments and costing us a fortune at an already expensive time of year.

What is this madness?

Peter Q.

Dear Peter,

How things have changed since we were kids.

The most we did was leave out a carrot for the reindeer and a beer for Santa, which always struck me as irresponsible.

How could one Santa drink so much?

Was that the real reason behind his huge stomach and ruddy cheeks?

Would he have perhaps arranged for me to receive a pony instead of a remote-controlled plane if he’d had less to drink?

Peter, I tend to agree with you about this Elf on the Shelf mania.

In the past week I have seen images of the Elf cutting up children’s clothes for his blanket, urinating into a glass (apple juice? we can only hope), fishing in a huge inflatable pool, and spreading reindeer poo (choc drops) all over the carpet.

All this in one of the few times of the year we can draw on the ‘Santa won’t visit if you don’t behave’ threat.

I’m not sure what message the Elf is sending, unless it’s mass consumerism, misdirected privilege, suburban point-scoring or mindless micro-management.

Thankfully my kids are teenagers and have no interest in elf shenanigans.

It strikes me as another way to spend more money on more landfill while sending a message that it’s okay to be sneaky and naughty.

There are now social media accounts dedicated to the Elf, as well as flourishing industries catered to Elf-styling. And when the phase dies out (as it surely will), there will be thousands of little red elves joining the hundreds of blue Smurfs and the millions of Cabbage Patch dolls and the hundreds of Tickle Me Elmos, and the kilometres of Slinkies and the mountains of Rubik’s Cubes.

Perhaps then the elves can make better use of themselves and use some of their magic to clean up the mess we’ve created.

Carpe diem, Jasminda.