It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Now that we’re officially into December, the countdown to Christmas has begun. The tree is up, the rotation for the chocolate Advent calendar has been determined, and the discussion on who has been naughty or nice is ramping up in both frequency and intensity.

The twins are in third grade and even though some of their classmates have tried their best to debunk the whole Santa thing, their confidence in the big guy is only slightly shaken.

“Mom?” The Deuce asked me the other day. “Is Santa real?”

“What do you think?” I asked, treading carefully.

“I think he’s real because remember, last year, we didn’t have enough money for the slushie maker, and I got it anyway. I'm pretty sure that Santa brought it.”

I don’t remember that exchange quite the same way. I think I was trying to give a lesson on wants vs. needs and how you have to spend your money accordingly. I give lots of reasons why I don't buy the kids this or that, but I'm certain I never used, 'we don't have enough money' as an excuse.

No matter, the miscommunication seems to have bought me some more Santa time. And after Mr. Elf shows up this weekend, I think we're in the clear for a little while longer.

The magic elf is an old family tradition that I remember as a kid. We had this little elf that my grandma made out of felt and pipe cleaners. Mom told us he was magic. Actually, to be specific, we were told that he was sent from the North Pole to do some reconnaissance work for Santa. It was his job to report back to the big guy if we were being naughty or nice.

My brothers and I knew he was really magical because he would mysteriously move from spot to spot in the living room -- looking for an ideal vantage point for his surveillance, no doubt. And each time he'd move, our candy dish would be filled with chocolates or candy canes. We kids were at once in awe and a little afraid of Mr. Elf.

Of course nobody ever saw him move, but one time, after staring really hard, I thought I saw him blink.

It's exciting for me to continue the magic elf tradition with my kids. Every year he shows up on St. Nick's Eve and then disappears by Christmas morning. And let me tell you - that span is one of my favorite times of the year.

At the first sign of naughty, all I have to do is say, "I hope Mr. Elf didn't see that," and the kids are totally freaking out, apologizing to the little spy.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Elf. Really. Please don't tell Santa, PLEASE!"

Sure it's a little sneaky, but c'mon. Even with Mark around, I'm still outnumbered here. I've got to use every trick in the book. Besides, it makes the Christmas season that much more special for the kids - and for me, a little extra peace and joy never hurts.