I never wanted an elf in our house, but the kids have them in their classrooms and kept asking when we’ll have one in our house. So last year, I got one that didn’t look like that skinny little Elf on the Shelf and tried to remember to move her occasionally. We named her Snowflake.

This year, Snowflake didn’t come out of the attic until last week.

So, last night I went to bed late and while I was flitting around getting ready for bed, I thought, oh! The kids are in bed, I’ll move the elf. Easy peasy.

Except I was too busy flitting around and completely forgot until this morning.

But the kids were upstairs playing so I ran downstairs, grabbed the elf out of the kitchen and rushed her over and stuck her in the Christmas tree.

Whew! I did it.

Except I didn’t. Because I turned around after sticking her between the branches and I see a little blond head on the chair looking at me.

“Why did you just put her there?” the first grader asks me.

“Because she was tired of reading! She said ‘mama, I’m tired of reading.’ So I helped her move.”

Because I suck.