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Put my father in the humor section of a card store and you’ll quickly find his body racked by laughter, silently giggling with such strength that his face has turned red and tears are running down his face. Don’t tell my father a corny joke, a joke that the rest of us simply roll our eyes at and give a pity laugh, because my father will sit in his chair and once again silently laugh until his face turns red and tears roll down his cheeks. It’s unavoidable.
I inherited The Giggles from my father, but mine come on at different times. The humor section at the card store and a good joke can make me laugh, of course, but if I’m really tired and something strikes me as funny--something that really isn’t all that funny in normal times--then it’s all over. My parents were around for most of my Giggle outbursts when I was a kid, and I remember them looking at me like “Whaaa?” and then “Here it comes again.”
Apparently it’s a first-born thing because we recently discovered that my son has also inherited The Giggles.
Last week at dinner Hubby, G and I were eating chili while Little Missy ate her oatmeal. (Have I told you she’s a picky eater?) Hubby gave his chili a little extra hot with some chili powder, and thinking it was cinnamon, Little Missy reached over to put some on her oatmeal. “Oh no, Honey, you can’t put this on your oatmeal or you’ll shoot fire out your bu**.”
The combination of his daddy saying the wrong word for “bottom” at the dinner table and the imagery of his sister shooting fire out of her behind sent G over the edge. The boy could not stop laughing. My son already looks like my father, but with his mouth in the same giggle-smile as my father, his body overtaken by laughs, it was like a young Larry was at our table. Watching the little guy giggle uncontrollably sent me over the edge, too. Apparently I was tired. And two people laughing over silliness spreads to others, with Little Missy laughing at G and Hubby laughing at all of us. All because of some chili powder.
Put my father in the humor section of a card store and you’ll quickly find his body racked by laughter, silently giggling with such strength that his face has turned red and tears are running down his face. Don’t tell my father a corny joke, a joke that the rest of us simply roll our eyes at and give a pity laugh, because my father will sit in his chair and once again silently laugh until his face turns red and tears roll down his cheeks. It’s unavoidable.
I inherited The Giggles from my father, but mine come on at different times. The humor section at the card store and a good joke can make me laugh, of course, but if I’m really tired and something strikes me as funny--something that really isn’t all that funny in normal times--then it’s all over. My parents were around for most of my Giggle outbursts when I was a kid, and I remember them looking at me like “Whaaa?” and then “Here it comes again.”
Apparently it’s a first-born thing because we recently discovered that my son has also inherited The Giggles.
Last week at dinner Hubby, G and I were eating chili while Little Missy ate her oatmeal. (Have I told you she’s a picky eater?) Hubby gave his chili a little extra hot with some chili powder, and thinking it was cinnamon, Little Missy reached over to put some on her oatmeal. “Oh no, Honey, you can’t put this on your oatmeal or you’ll shoot fire out your bu**.”
The combination of his daddy saying the wrong word for “bottom” at the dinner table and the imagery of his sister shooting fire out of her behind sent G over the edge. The boy could not stop laughing. My son already looks like my father, but with his mouth in the same giggle-smile as my father, his body overtaken by laughs, it was like a young Larry was at our table. Watching the little guy giggle uncontrollably sent me over the edge, too. Apparently I was tired. And two people laughing over silliness spreads to others, with Little Missy laughing at G and Hubby laughing at all of us. All because of some chili powder.
