My laughing bear.

My laughing bear.

There is really no better sound in the entire world than a baby laughing.

Forget crawling, sitting up, eating solids… the milestone I was hanging out for was Charlie’s laughter. Months ago, I remember mentioning to my dad that while the bear smiled a lot, I couldn’t make him laugh. ‘I’ve tried everything!’ I complained. (Mainly tickling, to be fair.)

My dad told me that he’d probably start laughing around 4 months and he was dead on. Charlie’s first giggle happened around then, when I was taking a singlet off him. I wasn’t even sure that’s what it was, as it was just a wee chuckle. And since then, it’s come in fits and spurts and now it’s a flood.

He laughs at EVERYTHING.

He still laughs when I undress him, or if I raise my eyebrows at him. Eyebrows are funny, apparently. Who knew.

He laughs when I take him into the bathroom and I’m showering or when he’s watching me get changed. (He finds nakedness in general hilarious, laughing with a hur-hur-hur sound when there are naked people on TV or sex scenes – it is just too cute. Yes, my kid has spotted the occasional sex scene on the telly. It can’t all be Playschool, people.)

He laughs when I lift him up in the air or when we rub our faces on his tummy. Or when I drag my long hair across his face. He looks quite blissed out by that, actually.

He goes bananas with mirth when I say, ‘Shall we see if your stinky bot-bot needs changing?’ and I lift him up to sniff his nappy.

He giggles when I go ‘Mmmmmmmmmmmm….’ and run my fingers up his leg to tickle him.

His bodily functions also amuse him. He’s taken to doing a surprised chuckle whenever he coughs, sneezes, burps or farts. He always looks over to see if we’re laughing too. Which of course we are. (Small things amuse small minds.)

He laughs especially hard when I say, ‘Can you say Mama?’ I always ask him, ‘What’s so funny about that?’ and he keeps on giggling away. Same reaction asking him to say Dadda or Bubba.

Also, when he’s woken from a nap and is mucking around in his cot, talking to his dummy or something, he always laughs when I stick my head around the door and say, mock sternly, ‘What’s going on in here?’

Sometimes, he even laughs in his sleep and I wish, I so wish, I knew what he was dreaming about. I hope it isn’t me in my birthday suit, cos the kid is really giving me a complex.

Journalist. New mama. Mr Chick's missus. Blogger at The Mama Files, Reality Chick, Letter To My Ex and Rachel's List. Author of sex advice book, Get Lucky. Writer for Good Health, CLEO, Woman's Day, Inside Out, NineMSN and many more. Current fantasy: adding a rooftop hot-tub to the house.


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