Some mornings I wake up feeling like I’ve been robbed.

Not by burglars… not by raccoons…

By Christmas elves.

I went to bed exhausted, the normal kind of mid November exhausted where you swear you’re going to “slow down and enjoy the season,” and then immediately start scrubbing dried hot chocolate off the cabinet because apparently no one else in the family knows how to aim.

And then somewhere between midnight and “Mommy, I’m hungry,” Lynnlee vanished.

Now before anyone panics:

She didn’t actually disappear.

She was asleep under her blanket, cozy as can be.

But in my head?

In my head, a sleigh absolutely swooped down, elves cackling, bells jingling, hauling my six-year-old off to the North Pole like she was a limited-edition doll they’d been hunting all season.

Because that’s exactly what motherhood feels like in November. 

You close your eyes… and someone steals your kid.

Meanwhile Harper (God love her) is roaring around in her lion costume like she’s auditioning for The Lion King on ice. She’s three. She’s helpful. She’s also the reason I now hide the glitter.

And Hailey?

She’s the tired teen detective, solving Christmas crimes before school even starts.

“Mom… Lynnlee didn’t get taken. She sleepwalks. Again.”

Oh. Right.

My bad.

But you know what?

The chaos is exactly why I wrote The Sleigh That Took My Sister.

Because motherhood is one long loop of:

• losing track of the kids

• finding them again

• losing your mind

• finding it again

• and praying no one has super-glued an ornament to the cat

The truth is, I feel “sleigh-stolen” all the time.

Seasons disappear overnight.

Kids outgrow shoes in eighteen minutes.

Magic comes and goes so fast you hardly get a chance to name it.

But somehow, just like in the book, they always find their way back.

Back to you.

Back home.

Back into that messy kitchen where you’re trying to make breakfast in peace while someone screams because their banana broke in half.

Chaos and Christmas go together.

Honestly, they’re basically married.

And around here?

The elves don’t steal kids.

They just steal my sanity and occasionally the tape dispenser.