We had a hectic last week as we had the pleasure of having our two younger grandchildren in our charge as their parents were called out of town on business. The girl is 4 and the boy is 6. I say hectic because everything is sort of done under pressure. They are both good kids, but kids nonetheless. One is in kindergarden and the other in day care – till we pick them up after work which is five o’clock. We dash out of the shop at 5 and rush to pick up the boy and then the girl, bring them home, get them changed into their soccer outfits and grab some snacks and rush to the park as his practice is from 6:00 to 7 :00 and hers is from 7-8 and then they want to play in the park after that but meany grandma says they have to go right home as they didn’t have supper yet. We go home, I make supper, we eat, Phil cleans up, I give her a bath and then pour a bath for the boy, who usually takes a shower himself, but decides he’d like a bath instead. At some point I do a laundry as that night was only the practice but they need their outfits for the next night which is game night for him, and Thursday is game night for her. Did I mention that during practice it poured the whole time, but the practice went on just the same. The kids were real troopers, but I was freezing and really wanted to be in the comfort of my home. This is the general pace of the few days.
So now at 10:00 o’clock they are both fed, bathed, teeth brushed and he reads me a French book he has to read every night. I don’t think I could read English at that time in my life but he is reading English and French. Then he needs a story and she needs a story. Fine. They fall asleep by 10:30pm. I make the boy’s lunch for the next day and ours as well.
Phil and I normally have our breakfast, read the Gazzette and leave for the office near 10:00am as we live close by and it takes us 10 minutes. But the boy’s late bell rings at school at 8:10am.
Now is the challenging part. I get up at 6:30am when I’m usually just turning over, and I have to get them both up and dressed and they are in such a deep sleep that I don’t think they moved the whole night. They are extremely clever children, but somehow neither of them know the meaning of the words “rush” or “hurry”. That seems to have been left out of their otherwise extensive vocabulary. So Phil had the job of waking them. Division of labour here. Let me just say getting out of the house by 8:00am was no mean feat. We did not open the Gazette. We did not have coffee. We did not make the beds.
What does all this have to do with magic?
In the midst of this whirlwind affair, my lovely 6 year old grandson said to me, “Bubby, can I tell you something?” “Of course.” “It’s secret” and he’s talking softly. “Sure.” I should tell you he has been doing magic tricks since he was two.
“You know the magic we do?” he says.
“It’s not real magic.”
“Well, we know that. They are tricks. We do it for fun.”
“Yes, Bubby, I know, but I saw a magician that did real magic.”
“There is no such thing. No one can do real magic.” says the meany grandma.
” I saw it. He had 3 ropes, one little, one medium size and a long one…..”
“It’s a trick.”
” Bubby, I saw it.”
I smiled. Oh, how I hated doing this.
“Can you do it?” he asked.
Now I just happened to have a Professor’s Nightmare at home. A good set with Guy Camirand’s Elite Rope. I did the routine and watched that face light up and he laughed and I could feel the joy in his reaction.
“Your mommy could do that when she was 6.” I said.
“Then I could do it too.” he said beaming. “Would you teach it to me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell anyone.”
“Well”, he said and I know he keeps his magic a secret, “there is one boy in my class who is also a magician and we share secrets. Could I tell him?”
“I don’t know about that. This is a special trick.”
Anyhow, we reached some sort of agreement and I said I would bring him home a smaller set which he could handle as this one was for stage and was much too big for those 6 year old hands.The next morning on the way to school he said, “Bubby, don’t forget the ropes!”
They are in my purse as I write.