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Sunday, April 13, 2008

Babies and Children: Baby Belly Laughs (by Sam)

 

I haven't been around long—only six months, to be exact—and I know I still have a lot to learn. But I wanted to set down a few of my thoughts in order to help those of you who are looking after me and others like me.

 

Okay. I'm a baby. A generic male baby. Like most middle-class North American babies, I'm the apple of my parents' respective eyes. They're pretty sure that they're the only people ever to become parents and that I'm the most amazing baby in the world. Gratifying stuff, even though I know it isn't completely true.

 

My main purpose here is to fill you in on what makes me laugh. Don't take this as gospel, because it does vary from day to day. But maybe it'll help you come up with a few comic routines that work more often than not.

 

For example, here's what my nana does. If I'm lying on the floor she brings her hand from far away to near, opening and closing her fingers. First she says, "Are you ready? Are you ready, Sam?" And then I see her hand and I see it coming, coming, slowly wiggling, and I know that it'll soon be at my tummy, tickling me all over. Just thinking about it as I watch the hand move makes me smile, and then I smile more and more and when the fingers start tickling me I laugh out loud.

 

So that's a trick that works. Except when it doesn't, of course. At those times all I can do is give one of those "I know you want me to smile so here's a tiny upturning of the lips to let you know I know you're trying" kind of smiles. Face it, sometimes I'm just not in the mood.

 

But here's something I really like. New songs. No one had ever sung this song to me until my nana unearthed it from her memories of the 40s and 50s. SO long ago! It's a song about going to Mexico. I don't know why it struck me as so funny, but there you are. Humor is a mystery, isn't it? I was hanging in my Snugli, facing outward, fully attached to my mom. My nana was going to say goodbye to us, but first she crouched down in front of me and sang, "Cuanta la gusta, la gusta, la gusta, la gusta…"

 

Now, I don't speak Spanish yet, but those were the funniest words I'd ever heard. I couldn't help myself! I burst out into a belly laugh that surprised us all.

 

So my nana did what people always do when they get me to laugh: she did the same thing again. And again I couldn't help myself; another unrestrained belly laugh. And by now we were all laughing—me, my mom, my nana.

 

Nana stopped singing. I stopped laughing. She looked at me silently and I watched her face. And then she started singing very slowly: "Cu-u-u-u-anta la gusta…." Gales of laughter.

 

She came up with other words to the song and the entrainment of laughing kept me guffawing during her whole performance. But oh, that chorus!! It was a killer!

 

Someone said recently that there are lots and lots of nonsense songs awaiting me. I'm really looking forward to hearing the one called "Mairsie doats." I'm sure my nana knows it.

 

Copyright 2008 Ann Tudor   

www.anntudor.ca
http://scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

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