Jet had finished doing a puzzle – this, after a full on morning at nursery, was extremely hard work for both of us. After, painstakingly and at length, the final piece had been placed, I asked him to tidy it away. But he had another solution.
Covering it with a blanket, he laid out some letters on top and read his ‘magic spell’ aloud. “Get back in the box because my mummy and daddy want you to go back in the box now,” he incanted in an eerie monotone, wiggling his fingers mysteriously. Then, “Let’s give it twenty minutes and see what happens.”
“What do you think is going to happen, Jet?” I asked, intrigued.
“It will get tidied up by magic!” My little Derren Brown (or perhaps Penn and Stella?) ran off to the dining table to plan his next illusion.
About twenty minutes later, I got fed up of waiting for him to put it away and did it myself. This I performed with no attempts at hypnotism and not so much as a puff of smoke, and the act went entirely unnoticed by the assembled audience (Jet and Stella) who were too busy making a new mess.
Some time later, Jet ran back over to the blanket, which was still lying on the floor where he had left it. “Let’s just see… It’s worked! It’s magic!” He announced, on turning back the corner of the blanket to reveal the completely-not-there-ness of the puzzle.
I had to shatter his illusion, for fear of setting a precedent that laying a blanket over any undesirables and spelling out a few magic words will result in them disappearing forever. Besides, I do not have enough sequined outfits to become a full time glamorous assistant.