‘Tis the season for Christmas trees, candy canes, Santa Claus, and Elf on the Shelf, of course.

Ours just came to visit this week. We try to prolong it as long as we can so that we don’t run out of places to put her and don’t forget to move her every night.

Sweet Abigail, that’s what my kids named her, is the belle of the ball in my house. To say my girls love her would be an understatement. Forget, “Good Morning Mom”. It’s more like “Where is she?”

I don’t even need to ask who they’re talking about because I know they’re looking for Sweet Abigail.

All was sugar and spice, coating with Christmas cookie goodness, until my five-year-old started asking questions. A lot of questions.

“Mommy, is she real?”

About as real as Santa and Tooth Fairy, I wanted to answer. Instead, I went with a simple “Of course she is honey”.

“Mommy, why can’t I touch her?”

“Because you can’t. That’s the rule, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Mommy, if she’s real, why doesn’t she talk back to us?”

For the love of candy canes and gingerbread houses! Are you working undercover for the reindeer network or something little girl?

Trying to think of something quickly, I said, “Santa told her she can’t talk to the kids. She just has to watch and listen to what’s going on so she can go back to tell Santa.”

She’s not buying it.

“Are you sure she’s real?”

“Yes.”

Just a little white lie honey, sorry.

Please stop asking questions! Thank God my three-year-old isn’t as inquisitive. She takes more things at face value. A stuffed elf that’s real and flies back and forth to the North Pole every night. Sure Mommy, whatever you say.

But not my little detective in training. She’s not buying the magical story I’m selling. Let the elf be! Leave Sweet Abigail alone!

After my daughter finally stopped giving me the third degree about this little freaky being, I began thinking about the whole thing.

It is kind of crazy that we expect our kids to believe that this little elf flies all the way to the North Pole every night to report to Santa and makes it back inside their homes, finding a new place to park it for the day, only to do the same thing once night falls. Talk about some serious frequent flier miles! Not only does our elf do this, but so does every other elf on the shelf. It’s like they’re part of some crazy gang, minus the spray paint and secret handshakes. The whole thing sounds believable, right?

Then again, we tell our kids that a jolly old man named Santa works in the North Pole where he has more elves that make toys for the boys and girls. He somehow comes down the chimney, or finds another way to force his way into the house without turning on the alarm, just to leave toys. Somehow he makes all the rounds to all the kids….everywhere.

I’m not trying to be a kill joy or anything, but it is kinda funny if you think about it. So, maybe my daughter isn’t too far off asking me so many questions about our precious little Elf on the Shelf. I’ll be curious to see what other questions she comes up with as the season continues. Should be interesting!