Giggles

Joe and I will do anything to hear Isabel laugh. We think her laughter is magic to our ears, the most beautiful sound we've ever heard. To me, each giggle sounds like it's the 1st I've ever heard. It's like wine...I can drink it & drink it & drink it and the more I drink, the happier I get, yet I'm guaranteed a hang over once the wine's all gone.

When I say we'll do anything for a laugh, I truly mean anything. Someone should seriously consider putting a video camera in our house, it's just that ridiculous. And annoying. It's what our voices become. Joe's "giggle" voice is surprisingly high-pitched and sometimes makes me want to stab him. And me? Well, I become Barry White. Totally creepy to the point that Isabel definitely won't have any play-dates should a parent ever hear my sketchy laugh voice. It's all deep & husky, that is, until I'm really trying to get a chuckle and she just won't give it up. At that point, I'll throw out all sorts of sounds, high/low, loud/quiet, a duck, a dog, a whistle, a grunt. Last week, I hit an all-time low...tap dancing / moon walking / singing / banging a pot. Besides a mild heart attack resolving into a blank stare, no laughter, except for my own, occurred. I am sure the neighbors across the street were amused. I imagined them all gathering in the dark on our snowy front lawn as I performed my own rendition of "A Chorus Line" live from the kitchen.

Joe also likes to squeeze Isabel's cheeks in hopes of pushing out a laugh. I'm pretty sure I'd kick him in the balls if he tried that one on me 323 consecutive times. My trick? Repeatedly saying peek-a-boo or some other random word over & over & over until she finally gives me one of those "I'm only doing this to shut you up" half-hearted kinda laughs. She's already playing mind games with us. The thing is, once we get one laugh, it's like a drug & we just need more. We'll jump around, stand on our heads, suck on her toes, hide behind walls. We need celebrity rehab!

Every night, as I'm putting Isabel to bed, she always has this really happy moment about 15-20 minutes before she goes to sleep. We change her clothes, talk about the day, she giggles & wiggles as I get her ready for bed. And even if I've only spend an hour with her that whole day, it's something about those particular laughs that reassures me that I am a good mom & I'm just fine by her. With each laugh comes an outpouring of love, and at the end of a long day without her, that's all the wine I really need.

 

Introducing...Barry White