When was the last time you laughed until you cried, and then laughed some more, set off again and again, even when your stomach muscles ached and you had no air left to breathe? For me, it was probably around the time I made up my mind to divorce my first husband. Oh, I've laughed since then (it was years and years ago), but not that uncontrollable, half hour belly guffaw. Not until tonight.
Andre and I sat down with a bowl of ice cream and an episode of Locked Up Abroad after Auggie, the six year old, was asleep. Or so we thought. Fifteen minutes into that hilarious, fun-lovin' show, Auggie Mar appeared at the foot of the couch, a silent spectator, until he realized we were eating ice cream. Holy Bejiminy, that kid broke into a wail that made Andre and I levitate. I'm pretty sure I have a white streak in my hair now.
"You're eating ice cream!!!!" he shrieked, a look of horror hard to describe. It was as if he discovered Santa Claus teamed up with his beloved kindergarten teacher to kill all the baby kitties in the neighborhood. His fists were balled, his eyes screwed up tight, a pissed off little monkey jumping up and down.
I carried him downstairs, hitches and sobs, temper tantrum in full swing. "huh huh huh . . . I saw the . . . huh huh huh . . . vanilla . . . and he had . . . huh huh huh CHOCOLATE SAUCE! IS THAT WHAT YOU DO EVERY NIGHT?! YOU WATCH TV AND EAT ICE CREAM WITHOUT ME!!!"
How it took him six years to figure that out, I don't know. But the jig is up. As I cuddled in bed with him, he didn't appreciate the laughter, at least not at first. After about five minutes, he forgot he was mad and giggled along with his crazy momma, which just made me laugh harder.
Great stuff!
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