Not a day goes by that we don’t laugh about something. My family is funny. We laugh a lot. We tease, we giggle, we find humor in most everyday occurrences (usually where we shouldn’t), in the music that we listen to (and then badly sing), the TV shows that we watch, the books we read.
We value laughter as a form of communication, as a way to weather the storm, as a way to bond with one another. I’m thankful that my kids are still at an age where they think I’m funny; they think I’m awesome (in their own words, I’m the best mom in the ever), but there is a part of me that realizes that this will change. There will come a day when they roll their eyes at every goofy thing I do, when I’ll hear “I hate you!” along with “I love you!” and I know this is the natural progression that most go through.
But, I hope that I’ve laid the groundwork so that for every moment that they roll their eyes at me for being dorky, there will be a small part of them, deep down inside, cheering me on. That they’ll be happy that I’m holding onto those inside jokes and the laughter we’ve shared and I’ll keep it safe for them until they navigate through the crazy adolescent years and come out the other end. I hope they’ll always be thankful that they’ve had a goofy mom.