I’ve had an Elf on just about every shelf in my house for the past few weeks. It’s the third Christmas we’ve shared with our Elf, Derf – Fred, backwards.

When I got Derf I thought the children were too old to believe that the Elf could really fly back and forth to Santa each night to report on their behavior. But it was worth a shot to keep them in line. I still remember seeing JJ and Lara’s eyes light up when I opened the Barnes & Noble bag and pulled out our very own Elf on a Shelf box. Lara’s eyes were fixed on the box with a bright smile while JJ screamed, “We’ve got an Elf!” Right then I knew the $29 Elf was worth the bucks.

That night we cuddled on the couch and read the book about the new addition to our family. We placed the open box with Derf in it on the couch so he could fly back to the North Pole. The next morning, you would have thought it was already Christmas. Grabbing the Elf on a Shelf box Lara shouted, “JJ, he’s not here! He went to Santa last night! Let’s see if he’s back!” It was only my first day on the job so I wasn’t very inventive on his landing shelf. Derf was perched atop the breakfront in the living room. When JJ’s eye caught the little red Elf outfit he pointed in excitement, “There he is Lara!” They squealed.

Granted it’s a strange looking elf, but watching their joy was – and is – wonderful. Yes, at 10 and 11 they still believe – or maybe they just want to believe. Either way, it’s okay by me. A piece of me that doesn’t believe in much anymore revels in their happiness and innocence.

Every morning during the Christmas season, Derf is the first thing they look for. No good morning kiss, no hug for Mom. Just the sound of their feet rushing around on the hardwood floors in search of Derf.

Derf has been on the glass shelf in the kitchen window, on the picture shelf in the living room, on the soap shelf in the tub, on the bookshelf in the hallway and shelves in JJ and Lara’s rooms. He’s been perched behind paintings, cradled in the Christmas tree, sat atop the 42” inch nutcracker and he’s taken a ride on my Lenox reindeer. He’s been in closets, on ceiling fans, hanging off chimes and peeking out of vases.

I must admit I was a lot more inventive with Derf’s landing spots last year – or even the one before that. It’s getting a little old for me. Or maybe I’m getting old. I resent getting up at 3am to move a little plastic Elf. And there have been nights I’ve forgotten. Not a good idea.

“Mamma – Derf didn’t move! He didn’t go to the North Pole last night,” the kids would cry fearfully “Something’s wrong! Why didn’t he go?” The words in my mind were, because I was too damn tired to get up and move him. But the words that rolled off my tongue were, “He must really like that spot, he’s got a good view of the house from there.” That little guy has turned into quite a responsibility.

But it’s been fun. I created an email account for Derf so he could communicate with my children during the year. Every now and then he’ll write to them and tell them to behave. It works for about 20 minutes. Last year my daughter emailed him and asked if he could come down for her birthday. Of course he did. But Mom got lazy and instead of putting him in his regular hiding spot – I put him back in the book box he came in.

One day when Lara was in my room she saw the box at the top of the closet and pulled it down. Out tumbled Derf. She screamed – and cried – and screamed louder. “Mamma, Derf was stuck in the box, he never got back to Santa. He’s dead!!!! We killed him!!!” Lara was beside herself in tears. “It’s my fault because he came back for my birthday.”

I tried to comfort Lara but nothing worked. She was wracked with guilt and her dreams were being shattered before my eyes. I felt like ripping Derf’s little red elf head off.

Suddenly, as if someone flipped a switch, Lara looked at me with anger and tears in her eyes. “He’s not real is he Mamma?” she cried. “Tell me the truth! He doesn’t really fly to Santa does he?! Mamma don’t lie to me!!”

I found myself at a crossroad. Do I lie? Or tell her the truth. Do I encourage her to believe? Or do I start wiping colors from her rainbow? It was oh, so, tempting to think I could sleep through the night without having to move Derf’s little red butt to another location at 3a.m. An uninterrupted night of sleep beckoned me. But my daughter was waiting to hear if it was time to grow up.

I lied. Knowingly and willingly, I lied. “Lara, he probably wasn’t needed at the North Pole after your birthday so he stayed for awhile,” I said while placing the open box on the floor. “I’m sure he’ll make his way back now.” She looked relieved.

I think we both knew I was lying but I think we both wanted to believe. I wanted her to believe in something special, fun and magical – for at least one more year. And she wanted to believe, to enjoy the excitement of being a child at Christmas – she just needed the permission.