Along about the time my son could recognize Christmas décor and pomp, the Elf on the Shelf began appearing in our house, bringing additional holiday magic.

That’s been well over a decade ago. I named the elf Mr. Potty. My wife protested a bit over the name, but I figured if we were going to play this game, we might as well get some use out of it and impress upon the son something he should be thinking more about at the time.

The elf is here now, across the table staring at me.

If you’re not familiar with the Elf on a Shelf, it’s based on a tradition, book and marketing juggernaut of a mother and two daughters based out of Atlanta, who brought the elf to the masses in 2005. The basic but elegant plot is the elf magically appears in the home of a child or children and becomes a welcomed in-house spy sent from the North Pole by Santa Claus to keep tabs on the naughty and nice. On Christmas Eve, the elf magically returns to the North Pole and delivers the observations to the big man in the comfy clothes.

In our case, Mr. Potty magically moves around our house. His moves are never witnessed. You can’t touch him, but you can feed him sweets, which in our case are magically eaten. Daddy’s annual weight gain magically takes place around this time, too.

The son is now much older but still plays along, making it fun for his little sister. They both just walked out the door, leaving Mr. Potty magically across the kitchen table from me. She left an Oreo for the little fellow, something for his morning magical fuel. He and the cookie will magically not be there in a few minutes.

Around here, we enjoy things like Mr. Potty, decked-out trees, and Clark-Griswold attempts at outdoor holiday illuminations. But we celebrate the one big reason for Christmas and what it represents. We celebrate the arrival of the real truth, a Savior. And we wish you and your family a very blessed and Merry Christmas!