APB on a missing elf.

Maybe you know an elf too?  Ours is named Rocky.  He comes every year on the morning of the first of December with a small gift (and every morning after until Christmas) to let the girlies know that Santa loves them, and well, that Santa is watching.  (Don't worry we instill the true reasons behind Christmas too.  Just not here.)   Weeeeeeeeeellll, it's the (early) morning of December 1st, and Mr. Elf is nowhere to be found.  He's not sitting on top of the mantle and he isn't in any of the holiday tubs full of our Christmas decorations either.  Sparky said he checked them all and I believe him.  Really, I do.  (The tubs are in the attic;  I can't get up there or you know I'd be ripping through those damn boxes RIGHT NOW at 2:37 am.)  Before we went to bed, Sparky said, "It's fine. Rocky's just going to be a little late this year.  The girls won't even notice.  I'll move the truck out tomorrow and you can get up in the attic.  No big deal."  And of course, he's right.  Because he's rational and unemotional and normal.  Completely unlike me.  

Here's the letter Rocky sent the girlies.  I just found it and apparently, he's British.  Who knew?  Happy December all.  Let the holiday fun begin.