Two posts collided this morning, as I was folding laundry. I had Number Four Nephew balancing on one leg atop the overturned laundry basket, as I crouched over a stubborn shoe, trying to get it on a stubborn foot (or was I trying to get a stubborn foot into a stubborn shoe?) Little hands were clutching my hair as he tried to stay upright...and I was overcome by the picture we must have made, and dissolved into giggles I had no hope of controlling. He must have thought he was supposed to laugh too, but he obviously had no clue what his demented aunt thought was funny. The look on his face, and the tone of his laugh remined me so much of my dad, who has often been in the same situation over the years: bemused that I could find such a thing funny, but willing to humour me.
Laughter is such a beautiful thing.