“Lola,” my 11-year-old grandson asked me one day recently, “why did you say I don’t laugh enough?” A very astute question from a young boy. My surprise was, he remembered and mulled over my comment that was casually expressed in a conversation. It was during one of his piano practice sessions when he heard me blurt out a short laugh upon hearing a movement in the music that evoked a vision of dancing bears – to be exact, fluffy bears stumbling and rolling over each other in awkward dance moves.
“What was so funny,” he quizzed me after his lesson. “I just imagined dancing bears,” I think that was my retort. “Wouldn’t that be funny?” I pressed. “Not funny,” he shot back. I knew he was working hard at perfecting those music intervals (when he heard my stifled laugh). All of this exchange on facetime, with a computer screen in between was even funnier to me. It seemed I was on the hot seat just because I laughed. So I laughed even more. In my impulse to hug my grandson, I blew him a kiss.
“You don’t laugh enough,” I fondly teased. Well, he remembered that comment weeks after. This was my explanation to my darling grandson.