We laugh a lot in our house. Justin has a dry, quick wit; sometimes I’m in awe that he can think of funny comebacks so quickly. And Isabella is quite the comedian herself. She wears outlandish outfits, makes funny faces and it sounds like she’s becoming a class clown at school.
One time, Isabella had a friend over. While we were eating dinner, Justin was cracking jokes left and right, and the friend says to Isabella, “Your family’s funny.”
Isabella clarifies, ever-so-nonchalantly, “Oh no, my mom’s not funny.”
Ouch! I guess I know now what my daughter thinks of me. I’m just boring ol’ Mom. This wouldn’t be such a big deal except I’ve always been insecure about my inability to make others laugh. I grew up in a funny family myself, yet I seemed to have missed that gene. Now I’m building my own family, and I’m STILL the odd man out! I just can’t win.
There is one trick that gets Isabella every time. Whenever I employ this tactic, a wide smile spreads across her face and before you know it she’s belting out belly laughs.
All I have to do is sing and dance.
I discovered this one night while Isabella and I were driving home from somewhere. I started singing along with a song on the radio and then began dancing a little. Isabella was chuckling and I was having fun, so I amped it up a bit—I sang louder and danced more dramatically. Before I knew it, Isabella was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. I was in heaven.
After we calmed down a bit, I asked Isabella what I was doing that was so funny.
“No offense, Mom,” she said in between laughs, “But you’re a horrible singer. You’re worse than Taylor Swift.”
That might be a harsher insult than saying I’m not funny at all. But hey, if the one weakness lends strength to the other, I’ll take it.