Silly Laughs, ticklish spots

Taking the boys home the other day reminded me of the past Friday when I had five kids under the age of seven in the car for the five minute ride. They all started talking about the way other children in the school laugh. I thought I was in an episode of Mary Poppins as each child tried to better imitate the laugh in question. “No, he laughs like this.” No, it’s more like this.” Each gave their own variation of the person all of them had obviously heard very recently. Five opinions. Five variations. It was hilarious, but Chase and I did not let on. I’m guessing he knew who they were talking about, but I had no idea – although I do have a rough idea of how that person laughs.
The conversation progressed to ticklish places and the innocence with which the discussion developed was a testimony to the ways these kids are being raised. One of the girls said, “I’m ticklish on my arm pits and the bottoms of my feet.” (Two places that are safe from me investigating the validity of the claim.) To which one of the boys responded, “I know my feet are ticklish, but I don’t know about my arm pits. Let me see.” Pause. “Yea, it does feel a little ticklish.” All three of the others had to repeat the experiment. “I’m not at all.” “I am a little.” “Me too.”
As is often true with children that age, the conversation quickly shifted to things a little more questionable and I had to change the atmosphere in the van, but by that time we were almost home. Everybody got out of the car in a very good mood and as soon as their book bags and backpacks were deposited at the apartment they rushed outside to smack each other around with foam swords.
Oh, to live that uncomplicated a life!