“If you’re happy and you know it, go like this. Meow, meow, meow, meow. If you’re happy and you know it, go sit in the corner and rethink your life!”
My three boys break down in laughter for the sixth time after the oldest one acts out the lines from some television commercial…again at dinner.
Other dinners have included the same Garfield joke over and over again. Or the lines of a funny youtube video. Or knock-kock jokes. My husband eggs them on until all four boys at my dinner table are laughing… and I don’t get what’s so funny.
The night of the “rethink your life”-induced laughter, my husband remarked that we should mark September 19 in our calendars for all time. Family history should be preserved, and our eight year old had snorted his milk out his nose for the first time ever. Of course, that led to more laughter and more milk snorting.
I don’t have that silly boy sense of humor. I enjoy it. Who can help but be happy when your dining table is surrounded by laughter?!
It reminds me though of my father sitting at our dinner table when I was growing up. The exact same table, passed down through three generations, at which my family of boys cavorts around (they can barely stay in their seats) once served my family of girls. Just my Dad at the head of the table, the lone male, trying to keep up with the conversation.
Our conversations bounced quickly from one friend’s mishap or drama to one teacher’s, and he would ask, “Mary…?”, because we each had a friend named Mary, and he was never sure which one we were talking about. I’m sure he didn’t get our jokes either.
I felt a little sorry for him then. Now, happy with my laughing goofball boys, I get that he too enjoyed our dinners even if we talked too fast and had too many friends with the same name.
He would have loved last night’s dinner, when we made up a song with verses that all ended, “But nobody drinks like the Irish!” So much boy-giggling! We’ll have to reprise that one when he comes for Thanksgiving…because boys never seem to tire of them same joke.