Especially if I am a part of that laughter in any way, shape or form.
You see, there was a time, not so long ago, where the boy child and I butt heads constantly. My husband would declare that we were too alike, cut from the same cloth so naturally, of course we weren't getting along. That tenuous time between my son morphing from the boy child into Mandrew certainly had some rocky moments. For both of us.
It was almost as if when he was struggling with all these emotions and growing pains and hormones that deep down, I couldn't handle him getting to be so damn big so damn soon. I was mourning the gradual loss of my sweet little boy who was way too quickly growing into this strange young man.
But then, all of a sudden, somewhere towards the end of his middle school experience, something clicked.
I was getting compliments from my adult friends telling me how when he saw them around town, even when he was with a group of friends, he would purposely stop what he was doing to go say hi to my friend and give them a big hug, asking how they were like it was something all teenage boys did, with no qualms and no embarrassment.
I'd get reports of his compassion and kindness and desire to make people laugh. The comedian part didn't always come at the best of times, usually more like the middle of biology or something, but nevertheless, it was there.
Huh. Looks like we were raising a good kid after all, sometimes in spite of ourselves.
It took moments like those to step back and realize that even if raising a teen is hard ass work, life wasn't about constantly arguing about schoolwork. Or chores. Or other responsibilities that never seemed to get done. Which, to be honest, we still do to some extent.
As long as we were raising a decent kid that was all that mattered. In the grand scheme of things, big picture wise, that's going to take him further than anything.
It wasn't until I could step back and acknowledge the boy child for these traits that I could also begin to appreciate his humor. Which, to the shock of absolutely nobody, is a lot like mine. Pretty sarcastic. Definitely silly. Maybe sometimes a little more than a little odd.
We text each other stupid memes or silly videos, like someone in a T-rex costume running or really bad song parodies.
We'll talk to each other with horrible accents. We'll wear ugly Christmas sweaters and onesies and silly hats.
We do interpretive dance, just to get a rise out of the other. My hands-down favorite is probably his Muppet dance. Freaking priceless. It's really too bad that I can't share it, because you would eat it up too.
We make horrible puns and try to top one another with pranks. And maybe trying to find the worst hairstyle when we're traveling - man buns and comb overs and the like.
I know, I know... it's a little horrible. Don't judge. A mom has to do what a mom has to do in order to bond with her son.
And sometimes I'll get awarded with a deep laugh that lights up his face and rolls through his body, collapsing his giant, 6'2" frame in half. This is usually paired with a "Moooommmm" in a semi-sarcastic voice, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I love that shit.
I wish I could put moments like these in a jar, display them on a shelf so when I'm old and crotchety and gray, I can open one up and relive the pure, unadulterated joy, one last time.
If only.
Until then, I'll eke out every single moment, every chance I can in my quest to hear that laughter again. Because it truly is the BEST. Sound. Ever.
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