Nearly four months into fatherhood and I am
loving pretty much everything about it, apart from the constant nagging pull of
anxiety as my brain concocts ever more fanciful scenarios where something goes
wrong. It’s all right brain, I don’t need to be reminded of the horrors of
life. I am more than aware of them, so you butting in to remind me of the
gruesome disasters that could befall my helpless child is really not helping.
To counterbalance such horrors, Phoebe has
properly started laughing at stuff now. As a comedian it is utterly fascinating
to watch a sense of humour develop from scratch. Sometimes it’s hard to work
out why my daughter finds something ridiculously amusing (and it’s usually only
for a few minutes, at which point all the humour evaporates forever) but on
other occasions it’s clear that this tiny human is gradually developing an
appreciation of the absurd. Even though everything must seem pretty absurd when
the world is this new.
We gave Phoebe some powder to ease teething
pain (she is a placid and happy infant, so it’s horrible to see her in
discomfort). So far in her life she had only eaten from a very limited
smorgasbord: human milk (pervert), formula milk and Calpol. So this sachet of strange
white dust was essentially her first solid.
As it made contact with her lips her face
was a mask of confused disdain and my wife and I both really laughed. And then
Phoebe laughed too. Perhaps it was just an infectious outbreak of giggling, but
it really seemed that she got that what was happening was out of the ordinary
and thus her reaction had been funny too. “Hey, what’s this? I only eat
liquids, what’s going on here?.... what, you find it funny me spluttering and
looking surprised? Yes I suppose it is…. What am I like with my reluctance to
ingest powder? That’s so me.”
She didn’t get the additional joke that it
made her look like an insane coke fiend, but it’s good when something works on
two levels.
It’s hard work bringing up and being a baby
and there are lots of times when patience is stretched and one of us throws our
toys out of the pram (not always the baby either), but nothing beats the feeling
of laughing together as a family. I hope we can do that at least once a day for
the rest of our lives (or realistically my life).
I have spent
all my life trying to make strangers laugh, but now my focus is very much on this
audience of one. It’s much harder than writing a new 90 minute stand up show.
My most
successful routine (as far as Phoebe is concerned) was me singing “Frere Jacques” with most of the words
changed to “ding” or “dong” (which I am assuming she is enjoying on an onomatopoeiac
level, rather than euphemistically). She started chortling, kicking her legs
and waving her arms with glee. Which made me laugh and cry simultaneously.
It was
euphoric! It’s way better than sex (though
I am afraid you have to go through that hardship in order to
create one of these happiness machines).
I won’t be using Phoebe as a comedy sounding board for my
gigs though. I don’t think the Ding Dong song would go down well at the late
show at the Comedy Store.
Phoebe’s laughter kept me walking on air all day. It’s pure
and honest and she’s at a stage where laughter can’t be forced through
politeness or pity.
This fragile baby is one tough crowd.
