The Young One, Prince of silliness and high jinx, is not the only jokester in our house.

He has me to contend with.

The other night, we had a laugh-off. How this works in simple terms is that we try to out-funny each other.

I was on a roll.

I’m not sure if it was the delirium from the sweltering ninety degree weather or the sweet intoxication from the Zinfandel, but I delivered a line of sarcastic assaults that got the kid cackling. And snorting. And hyper-ventilating. Then coughing. And choking. Until suddenly- he barfed.

The Young One threw up into my tropical garden.

Which, of course, got me laughing.

After he finished wiping his mouth, he scolded, “Izzy! You just kept going and going. You wouldn’t stop!”

I smiled victoriously. “How does it feel, Young One? How does it feel?”

He had no comeback. He knew I’d won.

Moral of the story: You don’t enter a laugh-off lightly in our house. Someone’s going down– right into the Mexican feather grass.

Tweet This Post