How Do I Refrain From Laughing in My Child's Face?

We laugh at what is funny. Our brains don't have a special filter that distinguishes what is appropriate to laugh at from what is not. If we see or hear something that we view as comical, our instinct is to react with smile, a giggle, a Santa-sized chuckle. At best, we're able to stifle the laughter at its onset, before anyone notices. At worst, we erupt in an unhinged volcano of hysterics, peeing ourselves and only calming down once the person we laughed at has slammed the door and refused to come out. I'm usually in the latter category.

 I'm sorry, I've just never heard "fork and knife" pronounced that way.

I remember when I was a kid how unwittingly angry I would get when my father would laugh at my expense. It was unnerving because, what could I do other than be furious and deal with it? Being 3/4 Italian and 1/4 Irish, having a bad temper was predetermined. But I had absolutely no idea what to do when it surfaced. Ultimately, what I wound up doing whenever Dad would have a hearty laugh at my expense was take all the toys in my room he'd personally purchased and place them neatly outside the door of my room (a monogrammed baseball bat he got me at Cooperstown was the clincher, I thought). It was my way of saying, "Screw you! I detach myself from any association with you or your gifts!" If you haven't guessed already, it completely backfired. He thought that was even funnier than what I had originally done and I had significantly less toys to play with while I sat, sulking in my now empty room. Clearly, it was a flawed plan. I still carry a deep-seeded belief that any laughter occurring within earshot is somehow about that Cooperstown bat.

Due to my mostly self-imposed psychological scarring, I'm especially careful not to do the same with my kids. And I've already seen signs of myself in both my sons. Antonio, especially, is sensitive to anyone having a joke on his dime. While I completely get it and sympathize with his plight, I won't lie - not laughing when someone does something idiotic is nearly impossible. For instance, back when we were potty-training him, we left Antonio in the bathroom by himself for about five minutes as he insisted on privacy and we granted his request. Suddenly, we heard grunting, then crying. He came stumbling out of the bathroom, his kiddy toilet seat strapped on his forehead like a hat, then sliding down around his throat like a necklace. It was one of the saddest, yet hilarious things I'd seen in my life. What made it worse was my wife tried yanking it off, only to have the embarrassment and pain worsen by the ridges digging into the backs of his ears. It reminded me of when I was nine and after seeing Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, convinced myself it was a good idea to follow a fictional character named Veruca Salt's example, shoving a wad of gum behind my ear (and into my hair). I'm sure my Grandmother was happy she'd been tasked with babysitting me that night. Needless to say, I muffled laughter until he was finally free from his germy purgatory. And he didn't want to talk to me for the rest of the night. Hey, would you want to face anyone if you'd just stuck your head in a toilet?

Here's footage of the ghastly deed: https://vimeo.com/57088377

At the end of the day, we won't always possess the restraint to hold it in when we should. But I think we owe it to our children to consider the potential complex we could be giving them. Don't get me wrong; if something's funny, I'm going to laugh. However, we should be kind enough to at least place a hand over our mouths or shove our faces into pillows. I've found that faking a coughing fit also works. Faking a heart attack works at first, then only angers both my son and wife later.

I hope you've enjoyed this edition of the blog. If you did, please share it with someone who'd enjoy. Picking up some serious speed on my forthcoming parent book so I'll be counting on all of you to sing my praises!

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jdp
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