I’m gonna getcha.

Yes, I’m still working on my birth story. I never thought it would be this difficult, but I do want it to be somewhat readable. Not just a series of ‘and thens’. Anyway.

I had a thought, the other day, while attempting to get Rowan laughing. She has shown evidence of laughter… it sounds a lot like, ‘hunh! hunh!’ but is only a few bursts long and has, to date, only happened three times. Each of the things which had her laughing the once, never made her laugh again. Tough crowd. My thought occurred to me as I was making ‘teeka teeka’ noises and popping the tips of my fingers all over her torso in a tickling manner. She laughed a couple of times and then sort of let her eyes wander elsewhere, as if to say, ‘I have already conceded to your wishes, woman, leave me be.’ Which said to me maybe we are not ticklish. Our reaction to being tickled physically is an ingrained, conditioned response from hours of, ‘teeka teeka’ and fingers dabbling all over our infant bodies — no ability to run away, yet. Later, we scream and flee at the notion of being tickled.

Long and the short of it is, I won’t be tickling my daughter anymore. We’ll stick to ‘Where’s the Baby’ in the mirror. My reflection is sometimes hilarious.


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