“Additionally, she did demonstrate certain idiosyncratic tendencies … Several instances of decontextual laughing were also observed.”
~ Excerpt from Brooke’s last neuropsychological evaluation
Periodically, Brooke bursts out laughing. I mean all out belly laughing. Cracking herself up, doubled over, can’t breathe kind of laughing.
And we have no idea what’s so funny. Maybe we’re not paying attention. Maybe we just don’t get the joke.
We used to ask, but it became a circular script. The questions still unearth the last vestiges of her echolalia.
“Brooke honey, what’s so funny?”
“What are you laughing about?’
“Avout” (with a ‘v’)
We’ve gotten so much better at decoding the mysteries of the melt-downs, but the fits of laughter remain their own puzzle.
But here’s the thing -
As much as the laughter may be inappropriate at times, it seems altogether inane to try to curb it. For heaven’s sake, why would anyone want to ‘cure’ spontaneous bouts of joy?
Is there anything more pure than a child’s laughter? Is there anything more life affirming? It’s like fresh air. I can think of nothing that fills my soul and renews my spirit the same way.
Someday I hope she’ll let us in on the inside joke. In the meantime, yuck it up, baby girl. Yuck it up!