Ok. We have a box. We have locked-up fake money. We have a magician's promise. And the unlikely un-allegorical fact is that we have a boy handsome enough to convince clever girls to help him.
Yesterday's adventures featured a magician with a box containing a 1000pound note. The magician gave it my 8 year old son and said if he could open it, he could have the money. He worked hard on it for what seemed an eternity to no avail. After much coaxing, he put the box down and took a seat to watch the soon-to -begin magic show. Toward the end of the show, my son was so utterly obsessed about the money in the box he wandered back to it, behind the magic show. There he met a small pretty girl who taught him the trick. He successfully opened the box and grabbed the bill. By this time, Mr. Magician was in his van. My son went running up to him with the bill and asked if he could really keep it. Mr. Magician said no. Sad sad son. And it was fake money.
Solving illusions in the hopes of being rewarded by magicians is clearly misguided. But he was a terribly mean magician. Not getting the reward he was promised, my son turned elsewhere for reward. To us. He wanted us to buy a toy trick from the mean magician. No. No. No.
Mr. Magician was so busy in the art of illusion, he overlooked good business opportunities.