Saturday, July 16, 2011

Life is a circus, Charlie Brown

by silvermom 

I remember looking in the mirror in my 3rd trimester of pregnancy and seeing my huge self in a bright green dress.  All I could think of was how I resembled a circus tent, and the baby inside me, doing some complicated acrobatic turns, only made it much more comical.  It never occurred to me, that this show was just about to begin, and that I’m the biggest draw of all - to an audience of one.

By 3 months old, she was already laughing even though still without sound.  I found out that she cracked up even more when I made funny faces, and all other non-flattering faces in between. Step right up, folks! The clown’s been sent in, apparently.  The way I see it, better me than her.  I resent it when people ask, “what tricks has she learned?” My response has always been the same: “She’s not a performing monkey. I, on the other hand, have lots of them up my sleeve.” Only, this show is exclusive. 

I have never really seen myself as a comic.  I didn’t have a whit of timing for jokes, and they always fall flat in whatever language I tell them.  So, for someone who would not pay to see slapstick comedy, I am embarrassed to admit that I resort to it fairly regularly. 

My show has a rather extensive and ever-changing repertoire. I do pirouettes, juggle alphabet blocks, with vegetables on the side, and sing in operatic voice.  She never disappoints. I always get a giggle. I don't even have to bathe in pink dye. I know I’m having a great night when she starts thumping her legs on the floor, clamoring for more.  I resort to magic acts, doing three-cup monte with her stacking cups, and hiding Ogbert the octopus in one of them.  She squeals at the final reveal.

Now, my biggest, and perhaps the only admirer of my comic genius, is 9 months old.  The fanaticism has been sown, and her eyes light up as soon as The Entertainer walks in the door.  She starts hooting, er… cooing.  And the show begins.

The sun has set, the little tummy has been fed. I’m done with my spiels, ending with the um, not-so-fat lady singing Iggle-Piggle.  As always, I brought down the house.  She’s in dreamland land now; the circus has to close for the night.  And the best part is, I get to do it again tomorrow. 

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