I Dearly Love to Laugh

Halloween is fantastic. You take your kid to a church social, he gets scared by the wildly out of control adults and screams for almost an hour straight. Finally, after 4 laps around the building, it reaches trunk or treat time which he actually enjoys. After gathering far too much candy you return home, put him in bed (exhausted but happy), whereupon you and your spouse proceed to consume said candy. We should have this holiday more often.

We dressed my son up as a Jedi this year, again. He loved that part, that and the already seriously diminished candy stash. I'm not sure he will EVER like clowns or giant beasts, but who can blame him (and I ask you... if you were dressed as a 6'5" clown and every time you approached a child he screamed like you were murdering him, would you keep getting close? If you answer yes, you belong in my neighborhood.)? I'd put up pictures (he's a cute Jedi, even if I did make the cloak) but it takes effort and finding the camera and I'm not up to that on a Saturday evening. Maybe later.

Almost the whole time he cried, I laughed (while holding him, I'm not immune to his tears). It is the most fantastic way of handing things with kids. Some days it feels like every nerve is being tested and I could scream at the next dropped pen on the floor. But what's the fun in screaming? It's way more fun to laugh.

Recently, when my son does something crazy and seemingly designed to destroy my sanity, I've taken to laughing. His concerned face lightens and he giggles a little too. It was only a bowl of soup. Nothing to yell about. Nothing worth getting angry over, certainly. 

Interestingly, as I've started laughing over the stressful moments, everything else seems brighter. The cute, wonderful things he does are cuter and more wonderful. The smiles Ryan gives me are wider and the house is warmer (though that might be the fixed heater, too). Best of all, I'm happier.