A few minutes ago, Sophia and I were sitting at the table. I was reciting and she was cackling. At each pause she would say “more, more” until I repeated the lines that made her squeal and laugh delightedly. I get a lot of pleasure out of the idea that she’s enjoying words so much they are making her laugh uncontrollably, regardless of their meaning.
“Do you know who’s asleep out in Foona Lagoona?”
Peals of laughter.
“Two very nice Foona Lagoona Baboona.”
Screams and giggles.
With bright eyes she says “More.” Then again, “More?” When I hesitate, she adds, “Please?”
With such a compelling argument before me, I can do nothing but comply with her request. Thanks, Dr. Seuss. You make my daughter’s eyes sparkle, her nose wrinkle and her laughter well known to me. In these moments, I can count every one of her teeth. We are all safe, and we are happy. It’s alright with me if every happy family is like us, and if because of these secret treasured moments we’re not worth a gigantic novel by Tolstoy. In fact, I wish for all families to have what we do. It’s well worth being discarded with disinterest, considered one of the many cookie cutter homes, measured as too burgeouis for time and words in exchange for the secret magic of nonsense odes attended by a symphony of laughter around the table.