The Exhausted Dad: Friendship wins the talent show

Some talents work better onstage than others.

My 9-year-old son, a third grader, has an impressive list of talents: He dominates his math assignments. His drawing skills bested mine before he even turned 4 (I still draw amazing-looking Ninja Turtles, for what it’s worth). His Lego and Minecraft skills suggest a future in architecture. He’s a supportive brother, he’s helpful around the house, and he’s perceptive enough to say “I love you, dad” when I need an emotional pick-me-up.

With all that and more, I’d say he’s already more talented than the average Instagram star or country music act. However, his abilities don’t exactly translate into a 2-minute routine at an elementary school talent show.

I was surprised, then, to hear my son come home after school one day asking if he and his best friend could audition for the school talent show. After all, my son has a reputation at school for being soft-spoken, polite and, well, not the type of kid who’d want to stand onstage in front of the entire school.

Me: “What talent are you going to perform?”

Him: “I dunno.”

Me: “Do you have any ideas?”

Him: “I dunno. We were just going to come up with something.”

Now, in addition to being a supportive father, I’m also a fan of the late, great Norm Macdonald, a comedian who often purposefully defied all expectations of a traditional “joke” and still land on something hysterical. Perhaps my son could do the equivalent with the elementary school talent show. Just when the crowd expects another piano ditty or a KidzBop dance routine, BOOM! Here comes my son opening a pack of gum and asking kids in the audience how they felt about the OJ Simpson verdict.

Him: “Eh, we might do a magic trick.”

OK, so maybe they’ll do a magic trick.

As it turns out, my son’s friend is something of a magic aficionado. He can do a few fun card tricks and some light scarf work, and so the two thought they could create some sort of act where my son was his friend’s assistant.

I don’t actually know the trick they’re performing, as I’m told a “magician never reveals their secrets.”

My son went over to his friend’s house after-school one day to develop the trick and practice it for the upcoming audition. When he came home, I wanted to make sure my son felt satisfied with his role in the performance.

Me: “Do you feel good about the act? I know your friend is the big magic person.”

Him: “Yeah, it’s going to be good. I want to support him.”

My son, you see, has one of the best talents around: Friendship. His friend really wanted to practice his magic, and my son wanted to help him. Because good friends support each other.

It reminded me of something from high school. My best friend participated in Mr. CHS, a talent show/pageant at Coeur d’Alene High School. I would have NEVER participated in such an event myself, but my friend wanted me to join him onstage for his talent portion of the competition.

What was his talent, you ask? Why, it was a no-talent talent, where he talked on stage about having no talent, and I wandered onto the stage midway though acting like I had no idea what was happening (We were big Norm Macdonald fans, OK?). The bit went pretty well… which is how I KNOW it would CRUSH at this silly elementary school talent show. It’s a PROVEN CONCEPT!

Anyway, I did the bit back then because I wanted to support my friend. Twenty years later, I’m still good friends with this person, and, well, long-term friendships are worth the effort, and worth much more than the glory of a stage-ready talent.

After my son and his friend auditioned, they were told to check the door outside the school office the next day right after school for a list of the kids who’d be performing in the talent show. When I picked him up from school that day, he was fighting back tears.

Him: “I couldn’t find the sheet. I didn’t see it on the door.”

After dropping the rest of the kids back at home, I took him back to the school to look for the posting, and I could tell he was nervous about finding out the results.

He told me they had fun at the audition, and even if they didn’t get chosen for the talent show that he’d get to perform the trick in front of his own class. But still, he wanted to get in for his friend.

We couldn’t find the posting, so we went into the office to ask the secretary. She had the list, and she confirmed my son’s spot in the talent show.

My son barely reacted. Hardly a smile or anything. As we walked back to the car, I asked him if he was excited.

Him: “I guess. I knew we’d make it.”

From a strong friendship comes quiet confidence.

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 5-11. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.