Pillow Talk

Annie had dance yesterday, and has since been walking around singing something that closely resembles the following tap song:

"Ellie the elf, sitting on a shelf, full of mischief as she can be.
Ellie the elf, all by herself, plays tricks they blame on me.
She takes scissors and cuts my curls, then she breaks poor Mommy's pearls.
When my Daddy dear tries to nap, takes my shoes and makes a tap, tap, tap . . ."

It's all very cute, and Annie thinks it is sooooo funny that the elf is named after her little sister. She is now referring to Ellie as an elf on occasion. Then laughing about it for like two minutes.

Anyway, last night Greg and I were getting ready for bed, and the song was totally stuck in my head. I started by humming it, but then I actually started singing the parts I could remember. At one point Greg (probably in an effort to get me to stop singing children's songs in bed) observed, "That's one evil elf, interrupting Daddy's nap."
"Um, in case you didn't notice, she also cut off all of Annie's curls and broke my pearls! I think tap dancing through Dad's nap is a fairly slight infraction . . ." I said. Plus, it's not like Dads can't sleep right through that . . . Greg can sleep in the middle of the day with both girls crying, crawling all over him, and screaming his name . . . and yet I can't have the TV on when he's ready to go to bed at night 'cause it 'keeps him awake.' Anyway, off topic.
Greg argued, "No way, messing with Dad's nap is by far the worst offense."
"Then cutting hair and breaking expensive jewelry? Whatever," I said, "either way, I think it's kind of the point of the song. This is obviously an evil goblin type creature, bent on destruction; not one of those sweet cookie making kind of elves."
"Ah, so like a Keebler elf."
"I have no particular elfen brand loyalty, I just like cookies. And any elf that makes me cookies is OK with me. There's no need to be a elf snob, Greg," I said mildly condescendingly.
And then my mind was stuck on cookies. I totally think I dreamed about cookie making elves last night, but the details are fuzzy by the light of day. (I also had another dream where I pinned my sister Star to the couch with my knee to her chest and told her that if she ever did that again, I would kill her. I don't know what happened that pissed me off so much, but I was fairly angry in my dream. Um, yeah. It was weird. Hi Star!!) So, last night I thought about asking Greg to go to the store to buy a package of the mint grasshopper cookies that the good tiny folks at Keebler make so well. (Even if the sanitary conditions inside a tree are questionable.) But between it being 11:30 at night, and having that stupid "Biggest Loser" competition going, he was off the hook. This time.