Laugh-In, Laugh-Ing

My husband J has a quick wit. He makes me laugh and I place a real premium on that. Indeed, we laugh a lot in our home, A also knows his way around a bon mot, clever impersonation, and can use irony properly in a joke. He is one really funny kid.

I do a personification of our dog Ranger--he has a voice, a personality, and he is extraordinarily funny, a real wise guy. Everyone goes back and forth in dialog with "Ranger". Once A asked me how I know what Ranger wants to say. I replied that is, in fact, the real talent. And it is!

There are several ongoing shticks that we all do. It really never gets old.

Growing up my entire family constantly cracked wise. Very funny! It kept you on your toes though, no one really minded being the butt of the joke but every one minded if their joke fell flat. We are a competitive bunch. To this day there are stories that we make each other re-tell and re-tell and we laugh just as hard the billionth time. My Dad was hilarious. He could take a joke too, not many dads can do that.

Back to my beloved. J made me howl recently and apparently has been sharing the joke with everyone at work, much to everyone's delight and my chagrin.

Time to confess: I have been buying clothes for Baby Girl. And like just about everything I do, I have been...obsessed. I am buying big sizes, not close to the age we suspect she will be. This is rationalized in my mind as follows: So I don't cut it too close and miss the mark. But of course the real issue is why am I buying outfits for the next three years? I won't answer that, sorry. That I'll save for therapy.

Confession number two: You may have been able to determine from previous posts that I am really feeling the 60s. And the 70s. The "mod" decades. Bright throw-back colors and patterns for the nursery, danish modern high chair, zany graphic diaper bag. So the outfits, well, they fit the theme of the day.

One night J sees a mound of clothes on the dining room table.

He charges into the room where I am and I start to cringe because I figure, the jig is up and I have some 'splainin to do. He asks--

"Why are you dressing our daughter like Jo Anne Worley?"

I do a spit take and start gasping for air I am laughing so hard.

Cripes. The man is right. Sometimes the man is right.





And yes, that is fun fur.

Lauren

P.S. I also have a huge jumper problem. I love little A-line jumpers.