Laughter is my favorite accessory. It pairs well with everything—even pajama pants and a meltdown.
What makes me laugh? Oh, darling… where do I begin?
Accidentally calling my child by the dog’s name? Hilarious.
My husband Derek insisting again that a trip to Lowe’s counts as a date night? Comedy gold.
My sons reenacting dramatic movie scenes using throw pillows and air fryer baskets? That’s Emmy-worthy material.
But the real laugh-out-loud moments? They’re the little things. Like watching a squirrel attempt parkour on my front porch. Or hearing “Alexa, play Voguegenics Queen” at full volume as Zarek struts down the hallway like it’s a Paris runway. Honestly, I should be charging admission.
Memes? Yes. Sarcasm? Absolutely. Mistakenly texting the wrong group chat and instantly regretting every life choice? Tragically comedic.
But the deepest belly laughs—the kind that leave tears and make you snort—come from my people. My messy, magical, chaotic family. Life throws a lot at us, but we’ve got a group text thread that could bring down the house at a comedy club. And trust me, that’s not an exaggeration.
Laughter is how I stay upright when life tries to knock me sideways. It’s how I sparkle when things get dark. And it’s how I know I’m still me, even in the mess.
So if you ever hear a laugh echoing down a country road, just know—it’s probably me, doubled over because someone in this house just said, “Did you see what the cat did with the false eyelashes?”
Now tell me—what makes you laugh?
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