Understanding the Trick Doesn't Spoil the Illusion

We spent months preparing our son with autism for air travel and then flew six people from Minnesota to Florida in the dead of winter (somehow managing to leave and return between snowstorms). We purchased resort accommodations, travel insurance, meal plans and theme park tickets for seven people (and then spent two days reworking those arrangements when the resort messed them up upon our arrival). And, throughout it all we coordinated those plans with seven other family members and an additional family friend, who joined us at the resort and parks. It was a LOT of work for a weeklong family vacation at Disneyworld...

...and it was totally worth every penny and every moment of stress. 
 

One of our family's most magical moments was an impromptu conversation with a Tomorrowland trashcan (of all things) in the Magic Kingdom during the first brief moment of sunshine we'd had in three days. Such a little thing in the grand scheme of Disney, but it lifted our soggy spirits and really enhanced the day.
 

We'd noticed him playing with some small children as we exited a gift shop at the end of the Space Mountain ride. A nondescript grey trashcan almost exactly like all the others in the park, but they didn't sing, spin, move and joke with passersby. John and I always want to know 'how the trick works' (it increases our appreciation for the skill of the performer and enhances our enjoyment of the trick) so we scanned the area for clues as we chuckled at the interaction. John found the operator and pointed him out to me: a plainly dressed, younger-than-us man behind a few other people, about 10 feet from the 'bot. He wore sunglasses and had his fingers against his lips as though chewing on his thumbnail. You could see the corners of his lips move if you really looked.
 

The trashcan turned to us next and introduced himself as Push. Even though I knew where Push's voice was coming from (and smiled directly at the operator at the beginning), I found myself caught up in the trick and taking directly to a smart-alec trashcan who was only tall enough to address my midsection. He was delightful. I even got tongue-tied, of all things, and couldn't form proper answers to his questions. And, even now, when I say 'he' I mean the trashcan and not the clever operator wittily improvising a routine from the back of the crowd. John tried to start his phone's camera, but Push accused him of playing Candy Crush and insisted that he put down the phone. The video is thanks to Tara's boyfriend Matt, who had nimbler fine-motor coordination than the rest of us.