He’s been talking about crushes. And he heads to the park with friends, and without me, now. He’s reached the “be home before dark” age, gaining small freedoms here and there, testing out new phrases and questionable lingo to see if he’s allowed to use it or not.
So, I wondered, as we drove to experience his Christmas adventure, if he still believed in magic. I see him practice card tricks, and then work tirelessly to figure out ones that have him stumped. He is consistently mesmerized by magic acts he sees on televised talent shows, and turns to YouTube if he’s looking to add to his slight-of-hand portfolio.
“They called to ask me if it was okay if they made you disappear,” I told him and his sisters as they ate dinner a few nights before the show.
His face was…priceless. I wish I had recorded it, but I’ve rarely succeeded with a nonchalant, deadpan approach, so my expectations were low.
Yep, the show had called, I said, but only because they were worried about our seat selection. They were worried, in the intimate theater, that he wouldn’t be able to see. And so they moved us to where he could stand if he needed to, and that call alone let me know we’d have a good night – since they were so concerned about the experience he would have.
And, after intermission, they offered to move us to the front row, which was way cool. Because the performers asked the audience to keep secrets about the content of the show, I won’t spill. But, I will say that Carnival of Illusion – a throwback to traveling acts – hit on every element of magic.
They folded together danger, humor, head-scratchers, jaw-droppers and even math, which my little guy double-checked as we waited for the second half of the show to begin. It checked out, he let me know.
“I know how they did that,” he would tell me from time to time, offering his hypothesis for a certain card trick or some element of a physical demonstration.
But after visiting with the performers after the show, and apologizing to one of them for misunderstanding a question she asked him during the performance, he went home talking out each of the magical moments, wondering out loud how they pulled off each of them.
It’s cool to see him think, to actually witness his brain working on something, other than regurgitating NFL stats or debating with his sisters who touched who first. It was kinda magical, and so was the hug I got that night before he fell asleep.
That’s why we adventure.