Sort.  It did not worry Mrs Belper.  Nothing annoyed her, except when other people refused to trumpet like herself, or somebody cast a disparaging eye at the pool that one of the puppies had made, as if they could help it, the lambs, she said.  The Belpers' house was like that, you had to tread warily on account of pools, and sometimes even worse. *This depends on whether you count J.M. Coetzee or not.  I count him as an Australian like anyone else who has emigrated here and taken out Australian citizenship, but he won his Nobel for his body of work in South Africa, well before he became an Australian. I don't often review children's books here on ANZ LitLovers but when The Elf on the Shelf came my way, it was irresistible and I know that some of my readers will be enchanted by it.    This is all the more remarkable because the book includes one of my pet hates, that is, that it's packaged with the toy-that-goes-with-the-book.  My instinctive response to this kind of packaging is usually, what's wrong with kids today that they're not satisfied with just a book, they have to have a toy as well, eh? But this one is different. The premise is simple.  As we all know Christmas is not so far away now, and before long Father Christmas will be keeping an eye on children to see if they are behaving themselves.  The elf that comes packaged with this book is