Laughter

Amid the kids' coughs and my own conspicious, involuntary silence, we did manage to have some fun last week. When the warm March sun lit up our deck on Wednesday, we escaped for a little sun and a whole new vantage point.

Who knew just a bit of new square footage could turn two lethargic girls into true adventurers. Deck chairs became a canoe, broken tree branches became a campfire, marshmallows were roasted, and the world began to look new again.... never-mind the snow storm about to blow in tomorrow!

While they were playing, I noticed such a difference in their laughter. As babies, their every giggle seemed miraculous, vaguely mysterious as we searched for a way to make them laugh again.

Now at three, Elliot laughs for the sheer joy of moving. She laughs as she bounds down the stairs, as she dances, as she runs naked out of the bathroom. She soberly looks us in the eye with her chin up and says, "My neck is open, you can tickle me now," and then begins giggling before we start the tickle.

In contrast, Maya looks for humor to inspire her laughter. Knock, knock jokes, poop comments, virtually any combination of toilet humor, or her own unique observations on the world inspire the purest, most outrageously unstoppable laughter. Even when I don't quite get the joke, I delight in her giggles, so full of knowing and so full of confidence.

How wonderful to have excuses to laugh, even on dreary, sickly days.