Very good, now we adults can talk about Christmas, and that patron to all things material, jolly old St. Nick.

Last year about this time, my 8-year-old was deep into the realities of third grade, which included boys beginning to discuss girls as lower life forms, the knowledge that you have to wear a cup to play Little League and questions about the North Pole.

I watched and waited each day for that horrible moment to arrive when my holiday bubble of fun and fantasy would be burst by one of my son's overzealous schoolmates, causing the last bastions of childhood to be lost forever.

Sure enough, my son began asking some tough questions right around Thanksgiving, questions like, "How does Santa get into our house without a chimney? And are you sure you guys aren't buying that stuff?"

I began fearing the worst when my son actually gave me the ammo I needed to halt the onslaught of questions. It happened when he announced that since he was not allowed to stay up all night to see if Santa really arrived, he would set up our video camera and find out the answer once and for all.

At that moment a clever plan was hatched.

The following week, I spoke with several friends from work who had never been to my house before. I sought out someone with just the right build and asked him to assist me in saving the holiday. Once I found the guy I went down to a costume store and rented an entire Santa Claus outfit, complete with a large sack, for a weeknight in mid-December.

I had already finished my holiday shopping, so I knew what was being wrapped and placed under the tree and what Santa would leave on Christmas Eve.

I made sure that my planned evening happened after the whole living room area—from the front door to the tree—was decorated and set as it would be on Dec. 25, including a completely decorated tree.

Then I put my plan into action. It was a Thursday night, and I made sure my husband took my son out after dark for about two hours. Shortly after they left, my friend arrived along with a helper of mine, and we set the stage. My buddy got into the outfit and put on a full beard and pulled on the big black boots. I had filled the sack with lots of pillows on the bottom and placed the three items from Santa so they would be clearly sticking out of the top.

Then I got out the family video camera and made sure it was sitting on the table we use on Christmas Eve. It would be the same spot I'd instruct my son to set up the video camera on Christmas Eve. I marked the location and aimed the camera so it would tape the entrance where St. Nick would arrive.

My friend went out to the front door, and I shut off all the regular lights and left just the tree lights on. I started the camera rolling and we filmed about 15 minutes of a house in silent darkness. Then my helper outside shook some jingle bells like they were coming from far away and the magic started.

The front door silently opened, and a tall, heavyset figure dressed in red entered, closed the door and walked right past the video camera toward the tree. He slung the pack off his shoulder, exposing the toys peeking from the top, and, just as he reached toward the first toy, he turned and stared directly into the camera.

A smile crept over the old gentleman's lips as he wiggled his index finger back and forth in a "no-no" gesture. Then he moved slowly toward the camera, reached toward it and turned it off.

My friends and I then hid the toys, got the lights on and packed up the evidence, which was returned to the rental store the very next day. The video was removed from the camera and stashed with the toys for Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Eve, my son very carefully set out the video camera, according to my instructions, so he could see both the door and the tree. Then he put in a brand-new tape and hustled off to bed.

Later, when the elves moved in and set the gifts up under the tree, all they had to do was remove the new blank tape and put in the one we had recorded a week earlier. The elves had a large glass of zinfandel and slipped off to bed, knowing that on Christmas morning we would have proof that St. Nick had been there.

Contact Deborah Taylor-Hollis at dthollis@svcn.com.