Last Saturday afternoon, while I was hiding in our study, stealing a very rare 30 minutes curled up in a comfy chair and reading Sophie Gee's The Scandal of the Season, I was interrupted by my third grader, Tucker, looking rather stealth-like himself.

"Here it is, Mom ... " he said, privately, slipping a small, worn and carefully folded up piece of notebook paper into my hand. He eyed me levelly.

"Oh, really?" I said, looking up from my book, not knowing what "it" was, but going along since he was so serious. I peered down at the folded paper in my hand, realizing it had weighty importance.

"Should I open it now or later?" I asked, hoping he'd say later, so I could get back to my precious book.

"You'd better open it now," he said solemnly.

Now he had me. Was I going to see an "F" on a paper? That wouldn't be like my brainy Tucker. I looked at him, then unfolded and began reading a very short, carefully printed list of exact names. On the list:

1. Xbox 360

2. Playstation 3

3. Nintendo Wii

"And this is?" I said, not wanting to know.

"My Christmas list!" he blurted out. "That's all I want! Really! I don't want anything else!"

I could hardly believe my eyes or ears. Not because of what his list contained, but because he was so unaware of what things cost. I recovered quickly.

"Well, why are you giving it to me?" I asked. "You need to mail this off to Santa!"

"Come on, Mom!" Tucker pleaded, exasperatedly, knowing but hating the routine.

"What?" I asked.

"You know!" he cried, wanting me to bend.

"Know what?" I asked, sincerely, again.

"The Santa thingy, Mom!" he said, keeping at it. Nothing like a dog with a bone.

"Tuck, just go ahead and send your list to Santa and see what happens," I replied sagely.

"Mom!"

"What?"

I said nothing while he stood, staring at me. I do believe in Santa! (Think of the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz) ... I do, I do, I do! I will never cave. It will not be me who does. Santa is the magic of the season.

"Mom -- there are a gazillion Santas! Santa's not real!"

"The real Santa does have a lot of helpers," I nodded. (Tucker has noticed how some of them have black hair barely concealed by their Santa hats and beards.)

"So how does Santa get all around the world in one night, Mom?!" he said with an "I've got you now!" look written all over his face.

"There's only one word for it, tucker," I said, smiling at him.

"What?" he said, or rather, groaned.

"Magic."

With that, he ran from the room, leaving me with his list. I'll never sway. Santa represents only the beginning of life's mysteries. Who am I to spoil any of it for him?