There are a lot of things God created that I don’t fully understand.  Pregnancy.  Childbirth.  Why ducks can walk, fly, and swim, but I can only walk and swim.  (I realize humans have souls, greater mental capacities, and opposable thumbs, but flying would be cool.)

One thing I can grasp is the joy of a child’s laughter.  Senior year of college, my roommate and I had about a week in which we watched the same three laughing baby videos on YouTube every night before we went to sleep.  It’s a really good way to end a bad day, if you’ve had one.

Last night I was struck by Jacob’s laughter in a more profound way. As with the YouTube videos, it was bedtime—Jacob’s, not mine.  He was in the duckie bath and we were practicing our splashing together.  We were both giggling like goons, looking at the water mostly, but sometimes at each other.  It hit me that he may not be able to speak, and his cries may be translated into about 75,000 different messages, but his laughter has only one meaning.  Joy.  Fun.  Love.  He’s not old enough to understand any kind of sarcasm, so his humor is never at the expense of another.  It’s simple, pure happiness.  And it’s something we share together every single day.  What a blessing!

A while back, I read a line from a mom on some blog or forum or other that stuck with me.  She said that a mom’s one goal all day is to make sure her baby smiles.  That’s it.  If the baby smiles, all that’s important is complete. I’ve taken this to heart, especially on days that are tight with deadlines, apartment hunting, or a mountain of laundry that weighs more than I do.   My job is to keep him happy, healthy, and holy, and I pray every day that I can do that to the best of my ability.

His laughter lets me know I’m on the right track.