Many years ago when 40 wasn’t knock, knock, knocking on my door, when my hair was big and my pants were tight-rolled, my good friend, Jennifer, and I happened on a greeting card with variations of the word laugh.  Guffaw jumped off the card and we chuckled.   After that, the slightest hint of humor was followed by

GUFFAW, GUFFAW, GUFFAW!

We just about coined the phrase.  Should’ve made the t-shirt.  Shucks!

I’ve been thinking about that word lately and those memories of guffawing.

After reading Jennifer‘s post (not to be confused with the above mentioned Jennifer) Laugh Out Loud, I thought I’d share a few of my recent laughs.

Feel free to chuckle, snicker, giggle, chortle, or even guffaw.  Laugh out loud or grin.  Or if your husband is sleeping, shake uncontrollably with your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter.

Scene 1:

Joe, Sophie and I were driving home from Ginger‘s house.  Joe was driving.  I turned around to scold Sophie for saying something sarcastic when she lunged forward in her car seat, shook her head back and forth and said, “BLAH, BLAH, BLAH,” and totally succeeded in rendering me speechless.

I really wanted to continue my attempts at discipline.  Lo, it is needed.  But I succumbed to the manipulation of a toddler.

Scene 2:

Sophie the message bearer attempts to deliver a message to me from Courtney.  “She needs Cammie.  The black one.”

“HUH???”

After returning to Courtney’s room, she runs back to my closet where I await a new translation, and manages in between pants, “Courtney wants the black one Cammie.”

I can hardly type this for giggling.

“OHH!  My black cami (camisole)?”  As if she really knew, she shuck her head and said, “YES!”  And off she went.

Scene 3:

Oh, I don’t know if I should share it.  But I’m gonna’.  But maybe I shouldn’t?  She might kill me?  But it’s too good not to share…

At Courtney’s first visit to the gynecologist, we sat for what must’ve been an eternity of torture for Courtney in his office for her to meet him and to no doubt ease the nerves of the 16-year-old.  “This is just wrong!  Only my (future) husband should see me,” said the young lady biting her nails.  Is it really the end of the innocent?

She relaxed some after a long talk with the man with the white coat.  She was sure to mention that she is very ticklish.  She tried to warn him.

After returning to the examining room, she prepared for her exam and waited nervously for the doc to enter.  She picked up a magazine and asked him as he entered the room, “can I read this while you….?”

After a grin and a “sure”, he proceeded and was reminded that she is ticklish.  VERY ticklish.  We didn’t call her Tickle Me Courtney for nothing.  I think her visit may go down in the books.

And that’s all I can say.  She may be looking for a new Mama tomorrow.  Applications will be accepted via email.

Scene 4:

The day of Courtney’s Dance Recital, I sent Cammie and my future son-in-law, Trey, to get flowers for Courtney.  “I don’t want red roses.  I want something that says “Courtney,” I explained.

“Oh.  Like, vidalias,” Trey suggested.

“Um.  No, son.  That’s onions.”

I’m pretty sure that would make her cry.  And not a good cry.

Redneck.

He’s not really.  But he thinks he is.  Is that possible?  To NOT be a Redneck, yet think you are?

I had a good laugh, but was quickly humbled when they returned with a dozen beautiful coral roses and some small sunflowers Cammie chose for Courtney.

“Small sunflowers?  I think those are daisies or something. Sunflowers aren’t SMALL.”

They’re my favorite flower.  You’d think I’d know this.  But, lo, there are indeed small sunflowers.

But no vidalia flowers.  That, I’m certain.

Happy laughing.  Hope you didn’t pee on yourself.