A visit from Homo... I mean Elmo

The other night my husband was waiting in the bathroom doorway while our youngest daughter was finishing up her potty-time. As it was taking a while, he got bored and decided to provide a little entertainment for the moment. So, he stepped out of our daughter's line of vision, and began to talk to her in a very good imitation of Elmo's voice.

Instantly, realizing that the Elmo was at our house and she was stuck going potty, her jaw dropped, and she gasped.

"Hi!" Elmo said from the hallway. "How are you?"

"Hi! Elmo" (Actually, in her cute Russian accent, she calls him "Homo", but for the sake of clarity and any really conservative people reading this, I'll avoid using that.) "You came to my house!"

"Haha! Yes, Elmo did!"

Well, that did it. It might have helped that my husband had an elmo-red shirt on, so in addition to the cute voice, she did see a flash of red. But whatever rational went through her mind, Elmo was alive and well and had visited our home.

10 years ago, it would have stopped there. But, with each child we've added to our family, we've found we take more and more liberty messing with their minds. So, when I found out about Elmo's visit, I asked her.

"Elmo? Here?"

"Yes, mommy. He here! He say, "Hi!"

"Really?" My wheels were already turning. "Maybe Elmo could call you on the phone?"

Without even speaking, the deception was communicated to my husband who quickly slipped into the next room and called her on the cell phone. Obviously, she was thrilled. Unfortunately, we felt guilty.

So, the next day my husband started talking to her in his Elmo voice. She was thrilled and so were we... until we figured out that she hadn't pieced it all together. She was still convinced that Elmo could visit and call. It just so happens that her dad can do a great imitation of Elmo.

I should have realized that she would so quickly become a believer in Elmo. Our oldest daughter, who was adopted when she was just over 3 years old, came home from her orphanage in Ukraine believing in Baba Yaga, the Russian/slavic witch that lives in a hut on fowl's legs and likes to eat children.

Our daughter's rough translation of Baba Yaga into English was, "The Bad Guy Outside My Window Who Wants to Eat Me."

We spent months talking to her about Baba Yaga, trying to convince her the story was made up. But it was to no avail, so finally we gave up and switched tactics. Since she was convinced that Baba Yaga was real, then the issue wasn't that he didn't exist, but that he needed to repent. So, we had what was probably the only child on the continent of North America that was nightly praying for Baba Yaga to repent and give her life to Christ.

I'm not sure if she ever repented, but she did finally stop tormenting our family.

So, I should've known better than to try to trick a three-year-old into believing something. I have no idea what got into us, because we don't "do" Santa or the Easter Bunny because we don't want to lie to our kids. All of them know that I'm the tooth fairy (and a bad one at that -- there's a tooth that's been under a pillow upstairs for 3 days straight now).

I guess I only like deception when it doesn't cost anything, and it gives me a good laugh. Obviously, I have some repenting to do as well. Perhaps I'll have my daughter pray for me.