Strange Behavior
By
Celeste Palermo, copyright 2004
My husband smiles at our infant daughter. “Oogeety boogity booooo,” he says, wiggling his head side-to-side as if he is a bobble-head toy. He burrows his face in her tummy and springs into the air. “Doobee doobee doo,” he says. She stares at him, wide saucer eyes absorbing the strange behavior of her father. He pauses, then grabs her feet and mimics eating her toes. “Mmmm. Mmmmm. Chomp, chomp, chomp. Gimme those toes! Mmmm.” Still, she looks on, without as much as a blink. Not knowing what else to do, he gives up, flopping down beside her on the bed, arms flailing above his head.
With this gesture of defeat, he hits the jackpot: she laughs. Realizing his fortune, he bounces back up and flops down again…this time his actions more dramatic. She laughs louder. He repeats this action with different technique and exaggeration until the baby is rolling in laughter and, he, drunk with happiness. Ahh. Nothing beats genuine delight from a baby. The sound of infant laughter is better than ice cream on the hottest day of the year—a delicious sweetness to be savored.
Why do we adults act so crazy around babies? What is it that makes us scrunch up our faces and moo like barn animals? What makes the most macho and the most reserved of us exhibit such behavior? Do we do it to imbibe in the whipped-cream laughter that tickles our ears? Or is it more than that? We may be divided across social, economic, religious, and political lines, but babies bring out the silliness, the fun loving, the lurking loopiness in us all.
I bomb at telling jokes. If I hear a great joke, I often try to repeat it as soon as possible—before forgetting the crucial details….but it is never the same. I either miff the punch line or lack the proper intonation to evoke the desired reaction. Nor am I the life of the party. In social situations, I often take the role of “listener” while my friends get the crowd rolling like stand-up comedians. Often later, I think of something great I could have said; a gem of wit finally surfaces.
Oh, people may grin when they see a crater-size blemish in the middle of my forehead, chuckle when I spill ketchup on my blouse, or giggle when I tell them how I accidentally set my kitchen on fire, but these are not the type of chuckles I am after. I do not want the “I’m glad it’s not me” or the “at least she tried” obligatory “heh-heh.” I want the laughter of true joy and engagement that renders one so helpless tears run down your face. I want the instinctive guffaw that comes right from the gut when my comedic feather dusts a funny bone. I get this kind from my infant daughter. When I make her giggle, the air is sweeter, the light brighter. Her eyes sparkle and I get a glimpse of two little teeth nudging up through her gums like ice caps on a barren sea.
I do whatever I can to keep her laughing. When I change her diaper, I say “Phhhhewie!” and collapse as if the smell bowls me over. I dance around like a cartoon gorilla wearing tap shoes, swaying this way and that, yodel, and sing crazy made-up songs.
I am willing to bet I am not alone in these theatrics—that most moms are closed-door comedians. Making our kids laugh brings an immediate sense of well-being. It reinforces we are funny…that we can indeed summon delight in another soul. Our job as moms is vital and serious; laughter lightens the load. As our children grow, we become the enforcer, the advisor, and the keeper of the keys, but humor need not be abandoned. Laughter is a precious and essential fringe benefit for both mom—and children.
So why do countless others act so strange around babies? They want in on the magic. In our tight-necked, stressful lives, we often lack much comic relief. In front of children, we can let loose. We can zip and snuffle, screech and yap…all without judgment. We are the life of the party and when laughter fills the air, surrounding us with a golden sense of wonder, all is right with the world.
