How To Watch A Bad Magic Show...And Fake Astonishment Like A ProTuesday, September 6, 2016
We are supposed to be doing a writing lesson (cause I’m crazy and homeschool). My seven year-old is wearing pajama bottoms, sans shirt. I can see the top of his booty crack, so I can almost say with one-hundred percent certainty that he truly is only wearing pajama bottoms (he hates underwear). But what’s most adorable about this picture of my pint-sized redhead is the faded fake tattoo he has over his heart. It’s a steaming cup of coffee. Yep. That’s how us rock star Coopers roll. We’re hardcore. Be scared.
He gathers up a blanket and tells me that we have to take a break from lessons (we’ve completed ONE) so he can perform a magic trick. “I’m going to make London disappear,” he explains. Perhaps this impresses you? I mean, here we are in the middle of Indiana, in our living room, and he’s about to make London disappear? From clear across the pond?!
But London is his two year-old sister.
So, he stands in the doorway and holds the blanket up in front of him and London. There’s a window behind him, so, hilariously, I can see his skinny little frame wrestling with his sister in silhouette. He’s saying all the magic words, having to add more because London won’t cooperate and he needs to stall for time. She keeps falling down, her head peeking out from under the blanket. She sees me and giggles. Teddy drags her back behind the blanket. His lanky legs are trying to gently push her out of view (maybe not so "gently") but she keeps hopping back in. “Just a second, mommy,” he says, ducking down and stage whispering, “Go away, London! Disappear! You’re not working with me!” Then he pops back up and declars majestically, “Abracadabra, Ambraham-kazaaaam! Make London disappear!”
The blanket drops.
For a split second, London has disappeared. I make the biggest astonished face I can muster, pretending I can see her little foot in the doorway. She giggles...
“Mommy!” London squeals as she jumps back in the doorway with arms wide.
Teddy sighs. “Well, she sorta disappeared.” He kicks the blanket. To me he grumbles, “It’s your fault. You didn’t say all the magical words the right way.”
“Oh.” I frown, pretending at shame. “I’m sorry. They were really hard to pronounce.”
He rolls his eyes.
Wasn’t this story going to explain how to fake surprise?
1. If your adorable little redhead interrupts school wearing nothing but pajama bottoms and demands that you watch his magic show, indulge him.
2. If he says to carefully repeat all the magic words after him, please take your time and enunciate. Don’t be lead by temptation to correct him when he mispronounces the magic words. Even if he does say: Abraham-Kazaaaam.
3. When the ornery sister doesn’t disappear and he seems really frustrated that his trick didn’t work, just gasp and blink and look everywhere (including under your seat) and declare with a hint of panic, that you don’t see the little sister anywhere. Where did she go? What have you done with her? My word, bring her back! My baby! She’s gone! Oh, Lord, she’s gone!!! *sob hysterically*
Yeah. You're right...
Guess you’ll have to figure this one out on your own.