i only wear white when it rains

Jingles really lowered his standards when he wandered into this glorified Happy Meal toy

Weeks after I spent the equivalent of three semesters at Princeton on American Girl Doll accessories for Christmas (including a loft bed that is bigger than my first apartment), my daughter cultivated a new obsession: Winx Fairies.

Hoping this latest craze will pass as quickly as my so-called “deluxe” pedicure (whoa…did I even get a massage?), I didn’t pay too much attention to her Winx talk until yesterday morning when she mentioned something about a Winx Tutti Frutti Music & Smoothie Bar.

I raised my eyebrows suspiciously, which might be a lie since they don’t actually move. But there was something about the way she worked Tutti Frutti into our conversation about Tony Bennett (I think?) that had me suspecting she was testing me to see if I was paying attention.

I was not.

Luckily I vaguely remembered spotting a Winx toy like that during one of my weekly parole visits to Target where I check in whether I need to buy 23 bottles of Olay body wash for that $5 giftcard or not.

So I purchased the Tutti Frutti Gin Joint later that day, immediately regretting my decision to add to the mounds of crappy plastic toys that seem to reproduce in my daughter’s play area like compost worms.

But it was (sort of) worth the finger lacerations I earned at midnight from removing the rubber bands, wire ties and various razor blade-like oyster packaging shards that cemented the $36 sweatshop by-product together to hear my daughter squeal this morning when she spotted her elf Jingles sporting fairy wings at the Tutti Frutti with one of the “Enchantix” fairies that has me fearing the Winx franchise might be a sex trafficking operation.

Jingles needs medical attention

Jingles is in critical condition following a brutal stabbing last night.

When I checked in on my daughter later in the day to make sure she wasn’t yet glowing in the dark from the carcinogenic heap of BPA plastic, I noticed Jingles was no longer hanging out at the Tutti Frutti.

Unusual since the original Elf on the Shelf book cautioned children against moving their elves, and my child is not one to question Santa’s authority.

“Where’s Jingles?” I asked her.

She gave me a grave look before pointing to her desk where Jingles was resting on a pillow.

“Is he hungover?” I asked (in my head) before saying, “Oh, he must be sleepy.”

With watery eyes she opened her mouth before falling silent.

“He…he…,” she finally stammered. “He used these to keep his fairy wings on!” she said, completely horrified.

Then she held up my Mother of the Year trophies. Which were actually two giant menacing-looking push pins I used the night before to secure Jingles’ fairy wings when tape, hairbands and my lack of innovativeness failed to do so.

It was hard to refrain from punching myself in the face after I saw her look of genuine concern. It was even harder not to laugh at the horrific incisions she believes Jingles inflicted upon himself. I half expected her to blurt out, “My dear, sweet Jingles is a cutter and needs some serious psychiatric help.”

So I let her counsel Jingles about his sadomasochism in the hopes that when she sees him co-piloting an airplane tomorrow morning, she doesn’t get too concerned about his questionable judgment and risk-taking behaviors.

As for me, I learned an important lesson today. Never stab the fucking elf.

Earlier in the week: Beeker is arrested for .98 blood alcohol level when trying to flee from Jingles covering Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas.” Authorities released him on 10,000 Swedish Meatballs bail.