Pay the laughter forward

They tell you that one of the best things about having children is getting to relive your own childhood. You get a front row seat to watch your amazing little one make many of the discoveries you made as a kid and ones you could have only dreamed about. (Facetime is about as close to the Jetsons as I'm ever bound to get, and it's just a part of everyday life for my son. Weird, right?)

On the weekends, I will sometimes treat Henry to a movie or longer show as we wind down toward bedtime. Tonight I chose a show that I've been wanting to share with him for a long time, and has been in the forefront of my thoughts for the last few weeks. The choice of a non-cartoon was met with resistance at first, but once he started watching, the giggles tumbled out, followed by almost immediate impersonation.

"I like Laverne best!"

"He has funny jokes, Mommy!"

"Watch, I can do that!"
And Henry promptly sat on his head.



The style of sitcom may be dated, but Mork's humor and quirks are intrinsically part of my own sense of humor, and I am rather proud of that. As a toddler, I would sneak back into the living room to watch "Nanu Nanu" with my parents and my mom bought me the first season on DVD when they came out many years ago.

I know there has been a lot written about the passing of Robin Williams. By all accounts, a talented and generous man. I didn't know him, but I know he's been making me laugh since I was very young. And laughter is one of those things we shouldn't take for granted.

While I watched Henry enjoy his new comedic discovery, I realized how grateful I am to be able to share these laughs that are 35 years old. Though there won't be any new Robin Williams material, it is a joy to pay the laughter forward with this new audience.

Nanu, Nanu!

Insta-puddle: Just add kindness

The Mama Grizzly protective instinct is a biological imperative.  Survival of the species and whatnot. As a mom and as someone who has even a basic comprehension of science, it is something that I understand pretty well.

What I cannot fathom, from any sort of scientific standpoint, is the similarly amplified feeling of gratitude when someone shows kindness to my child.  If you are nice to me, odds are you’ll get a toe in the dirt “aw shucks” kind of response. But if you do something nice for my son? I can go from dry-eyed to misty in about the same time it takes Henry to brandish those adorable dimples.

This past Sunday, I took my son to the theatre to see part of a musical.  I say “part” because while it is a jukebox musical with music that he loves, there are also a lot of book scenes.  Henry is bright and can be attentive, but he is also highly inquisitive, and I didn’t relish the thought of two hours of “what is he doing,” “why is that funny,” and “when are they going to sing again?”  So I arranged to bring him to the concert finale of Act 1.  Twenty minutes of music that he knows, then we are out the door.

He had a blast! Guitar solos, stand-up bass tricks and driving drumbeats had him smiling ear to ear and dancing on my lap.  All too soon, the lights came up and it was intermission. Nearby ushers complimented his dancing and his attention during the show. When the penny dropped that we were not staying for the second act, though, my young man was inconsolable.  Now this was partly due to the time of day, but there is something wonderful about a kid who cries because he can’t stay at the theatre. Maybe my bias is showing…

Anyway, I got him calmed down and we walked to the car.  Per the Parking Man’s instructions, we had parked obnoxiously close to the stage door. There, standing ever so close to our car were two members of the band we had just seen onstage. Let me dispel any notion you may have of this looking cool: we’re talking about two young men wearing white t-shirts, boxers, and wireless microphone packs who are taking a smoke break in between acts. Not sexy and not necessarily recognizable.  But Henry asks who they are and I tell him.  He goes super quiet, and tugs on my hand.

“Do you want to say hi?” I ask. He nods. (Talking to strangers is not my strong suit either, but we do things for our kids…)

I apologise for the intrusion and introduce us. I tell them that Henry has wanted to see the show for a month, and that we had seen the big concert and Henry loved it.  They both seem touched. The drummer smiles, comes around the car and offers Henry a big high five. Henry’s hand meets his with a shy smile.  The bass player quickly puts out his cigarette and follows suit. Both of the musicians give Henry huge smiles and thank him for coming before disappearing back into the theatre.

While Henry beamed in the backseat on the way home, I felt my eyes get misty. I had taken my son to a show at the theatre that gave me my Equity card, and the unsuspecting cast had treated him like gold. Sniff.

At the end of the day, Henry and I talked about everything we did:  we rode on a trolley, had lunch at the beach, saw the show. When I asked him what his favorite part was, he replied without hesitation,

“Getting high fives from The Crickets.”

Sniffle… Someone pass me a kleenex…