We were riding in the car the other day and I gave the boys some goldfish crackers so they would have something to put in their pie-holes for five stinking minutes so I could hear myself think.
They were munching for a while before Boy started a slight giggle. It quickly turned into one of those Youtube baby-laughs where the poor little baby can’t even control its face.
Boy was LOSING it.
I turned around and saw that Sigfried was flicking goldfish into the air onto the floor.
And Boy thought it was literally the funniest things he’d ever seen.
I wish I could have filmed it, it was so cute. He literally couldn’t stop.
And did I care that the 4-year-old was throwing food on the floor? If you could see the inside of my car you would understand that, No, I do not care.
But I was envious of the toddler. Not because of the wet-your-diaper barf-in-your-lap laughter. To this day I can still totally do that.
I was jealous of this:
When he’s done laughing, he’s done laughing. He can just stop and nobody cares. Once you get a little older you suddenly have this 12-step-program that you have to go through when you’re finished laughing uproariously.
Oh how I would love to just turn it off without looking like a total nut-job.