Daughter Laughter

December 23, 2016

Note to self: I heard the title “daughter laughter” in my head before I typed it. Easy to say, but reading it with a straight face throws me for a loop. Daw-ter laff-ter? Why not daff-ter law-ter? My daughters do make me daft, but that’s another post.

My daughters and I laugh a fair amount together. When we get together. Which isn’t as often as I would like, but a family get-together is underway right now because it’s Xmas. (Note to Christians: thank you for making this a family time of year. It sucks that travel adds CO2 to the atmosphere, but having them here lifts my spirits. ‘Daffter’ daughters are just what the doctor ordered.)

Tuesday night we headed over to pub sing. Between songs a conversation ensued about a bit of English culture. A friend offered some cultural and historical insights. Another one replied, “Well, I’ve written that down and I’ll be sure to make a note of it.” My youngest erupted in unrestrained glee. No camera at hand, but my mind’s eye, and what better way to save that expression for eternity?

The next morning I pushed a New Yorker towards her across the breakfast table. “Here. Take a look.” Boom! Another eruption of daft laughter. She blurts, “‘Go like this!” It can’t get any better” and wipes away tears. She’s right. Life can’t get any better. Thanks, Liana Finck (12 Dec 2016).

My daughters have an uncanny ability to crawl inside my head and squeeze my funny bone. I wrote to both a couple weeks back about the ice storm we had. The Claremont daughter replied, “Well it is a frigid 57 degrees here and was in the low 70s here today so I think we all know what cold feels like.

Sarcasm. Irreverence. Irony. May they never take life too seriously.
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