Laughing Matters

Once again, I'm writing from the living room at Nona and Granddaddy's house. This does not bode well for the future of the blog since the last time we were here was six weeks ago and I'm not sure when we're scheduled to be back. I must learn to write from our house.

We are here for our third annual Mardi Gras trip and it's fun to watch you, Marian, figure out how to score loot. We went to the Pass Christian parade yesterday and you were not at all certain that it was going to be fun. But a few shiny neck bobbles and one stuffed bear handed to you directly from someone on a float, seemed to change your attitude. By the time we left, you were running back and forth from the curb by yourself and sitting comfortably atop your Poppa's shoulders waving your hands above your head and saying, "Throw me some beads, mister!" Joe, you fed and slept through the whole affair.

Marian, you are a devoted and loving older sister. Whatever we expected from you, jealousy or indifference, has not come to pass. Joe is who you reach for when you wake up and who you demand to kiss before going to bed. Joe-Boy, a name you've coined, is equally devoted to you; although he seems to know when you've hit manic territory and has perfected his "get me out of here, now, and I mean it!" scream.

It is fascinating and heart warming to watch your relationship develop. Yesterday, as we drove back from the parade and Joe was screaming at the top of his lungs, I asked you to sing to him. Within minutes he was happy, a wide grin stretched across his face, as you clapped and made funny faces. You seem to be able to turn his mood around better than anyone and every time it happens if feels like the world rights itself and peace settles in.

Joe, you laughed for the first time on your three month birthday. This is,to the day, the exact same time that Marian laughed. We didn't catch that first giggle on video but we did catch your first laughing fit and as that's what I've posted here. There are no words to describe what happens to parents when they hear that sweet sound for the first time. It's an explosion; literally, it feels like your chest might just burst open. And it feels like that the fifth, sixth and tenth time too. You laughter stops time.

Two babies has pushed me to the brink of sanity several times. In fact, your Poppa will tell you that on his first day back at work full-time in January I called him in tears. Every parent of more than one child has warned me that it's way more than two times the work. But it's also full of more than two times the wonder and joy. I am thankful, every minute, for this bounty.