Last week, the mother of one of Eight’s friends asked if we wanted to go to a magic show on Saturday, and, of course, the answer was yes.  The answer was yes because Kyle and I will basically go to anything outside of a timeshare presentation or a cult meeting (Actually, now that I type that, would I go to a cult meeting?  What if it was a cult around something awesome?  Or, what if I was trying to rescue someone out of the cult and had to go undercover as someone who was interested in checking out said cult?  Maybe I shouldn’t close the “cult meeting” door so definitively.  Timeshare presentations are a Hard No.).  The answer was also yes because we like magic.

“Oh, my gosh, Amanda, you are not special; everyone likes magic,” I’m sure you’re thinking as you roll your eyeballs out of your head…and you are right, everyone does like magic.  There aren’t two million magic shows in Las Vegas because people don’t like magic.  The average person on the street could probably name five famous magicians before five famous hockey players.  Of those average people, however, how many professional (not your goober friend hooking his middle fingers and thumbs together in a chain in front of him and then swinging his hands behind his head to show ta da, his fingers are no longer linked) magic shows do you think they see, on average, a year?  Zero?  Here’s a hard brag: In the last 365 days, Kyle and I have been to three magic shows.  We are in no way magical groupies, but if made to choose between going to dinner and going to dinner and doing something else that’s awesome like attending a magic show, we always pick Door Number Two.

Interestingly, in all our travels through the world of illllluuuusion (you are required by law to say it that way), we never once brought our kids…which is weird and kind of bad parenting.  It’s particularly weird and kind of bad parenting for me because my grandfather was a skilled magician and performed illllluuuusions at every one of my birthday parties until I was in my 30’s teens.  So, the Saturday magic show was all the more important to rectifying twelve years of wrongs – which is what I had to remind myself when my twelve-year-old announced,

“I’m not going to any magic shows.”

“Yes, you are,” I said.  “You’re going to like it.”

“I don’t like magic shows and I am not going, either,” Eight said.

“Yes, you are,” I said.  “You’ve never been to a magic show and you don’t know that you don’t like it.”

“I don’t need to go to know I won’t like it,” Eight said, using the same excuse I use for timeshare presentations.

“Have Dad and I ever been wrong when we’ve said you will like something?”  I asked.

“Yes,” Eight said.

“When?”  I said.  Eight thought for a moment.

“You said I would like chicken and I hate chicken,” he said.

“What’s your favorite school lunch?”  I asked.

“Chicken patty,” he said.

“I don’t want to go,” Twelve repeated.  “I want to hang out with my friends.”

“You can bring a friend,” Kyle said.

“My friends don’t want to go to a stupid magic show,” Twelve said.  “Magic is stupid, this show is stupid, it’s stupid.”

“Fair enough,” Kyle said, “but you’re going.”

We entered the theater with the sourest-faced pre-teen on the planet (or just “A Pre-Teen”).  Eight tried to emulate his brother, but then saw his friend and got a bag of popcorn and was instantly jacked up.  We found our seats, the lights went down, and it was showtime.

The magician was a Canadian named Chris Funk, and his performance was AWESOME.  In addition to doing some amazing illllluuuusions, he was a fantastic showman.  How fantastic?  Well, he had a roomful of North Dakotans hooting and cheering and waving their arms in the first five minutes – magic in itself.  Twelve, on the other hand, sat with his arms crossed and an “I am only looking forward because I have nowhere else to look” look on his face (you know, that precious pre-teen thing where their chins are down and their eyes are up) through the first act.  When the lights rose for the intermission, he bolted to the lobby (presumably to scroll his phone), returning as the second act was starting.  He sat in a similar manner all the way through the second act – until the very last trick, which required some minor audience participation in the form of finger wiggling.  For the briefest moment, Twelve unfurled his arms and wiggled his fingers.  Kyle glanced over at me, and I shrugged.

The show ended, the lights came on, and Eight screeched,

“That was the best show I’ve ever seen, and I am not going to be a dentist anymore, I am going to be a magician.”

“I’m going to be a magician, too!”  His friend said.

Twelve stood up, pursed his lips, and cracked his knuckles.

Then he said,

“I am really glad you guys made me go to that show, because that was SO COOL,” he said.  “So cool.  That last trick was amazing.  Did you think it was amazing?”

“Yes,” Kyle said, after a pause.  “Amazing.”

“I thought all the tricks were cool, actually,” Twelve said.  “I went out at the intermission so I could give him a fist-bump or high-five or whatever because I figured he’d go to the bathroom and I wanted to tell him his show was really cool.”

“That’s great, buddy,” I said.  “I’m glad you did that, and I’m glad you liked it.”

“Yeah, I really liked it,” he said.  “We should see if he is performing somewhere we have a hockey tournament so we can go again.”

“Great idea,” Kyle said.

“Man, I’m so glad we came to this,” Twelve said.  “Didn’t you think it was awesome?”

“It was magic,” I said, putting my arm around him as we walked up the aisle.

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Okay, the photo above is nothing, really (except a rockin’ side bun), but it’s what we did after the photo that connects to this story. Kyle took this photo before my 30th birthday celebration at a place called The Magic Castle in Las Angeles. The Magic Castle is a private supper club for magicians. Members and their guests have dinner, and then go from room to room where different types of magicians are performing their acts (and you can’t take pictures in there which is why I only have this hotel room photo). My sister used to work on a show called Criminal Minds, and one of the actors named Matthew Gray Gubler was (is?) a member, which is how we were able to attend. You can read more about The Magic Castle here.

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This week on North Dakota Today, we talked about the upcoming Special Olympics volleyball game and a young professional in Dickinson doing great things for and with the community. (Valley News Live)

A Minot seventh-grader named JJ just won $10,000 for making four baskets. (X)

Speaking of Minot, here is a brief look at Minot’s Beatrice Brandt in celebration of her 96th birthday. (Minot Daily News)

Harry’s Steakhouse in Grand Forks is one of the Top 100 Romantic Restaurants in the country, according to Open Table. (Grand Forks Herald)

Speaking of Grand Forks, beloved crossing guard (and retired sheriff) Bob Rost turned 75. (Facebook)

It just got easier to adopt children in foster care in North Dakota. (KX Net)

Ten girls got behind the wheel at the first Women in Trucking event in Minot. (Minot Daily News)

NDSU’s Dr. Jo Ann Miller was honored with a lifetime achievement award by the Midwest branch of the American Choral Directors Association. (Valley News Live)

Also as a reminder, Kyle and his friends, Corey and Kelly, have a podcast called North Dakota After Dark where they talk about youth hockey in North Dakota.  The latest episode is up and is an interview with former official Josh Brown.  Check it out. Bonus: you can watch it on YouTube. (North Dakota After Dark)

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