Silly is as silly does

Originally published on DC Metro Moms, 5/20/10:

 I'm no scientist, but I'm pretty certain that there are particular genetic traits that my husband and I have passed along to our children somewhere on their DNA.  I have no doubt that there is an anxiety gene (you're very welcome first-born, and I'm pretty sure you'll be thanking me someday soon as well, middle-child), and my condolences will definitely be sent to my daughter in the future when she, like many women in our family, discovers that her ankles have gone inexplicably missing. Sure, sure, there are plenty of physical, emotional, and mental humdingers that the kids will absolutely be able to directly trace back to either my dear hubby or myself.  But why focus on the negative?  (Other than for the sarcastic humor factor, that is.)

Since I do not have any connection to the scientific world, I might simply be ignorant about research that has in fact already been done, but I'm going out on a limb with my assumption that there is an untapped area for study in the field of genetics.  I want the hypothesis to be tested-- there is a sense of humor gene, and its presence is made apparent from very early on in life.


When we're not giving primers on "good table manners" that involve nothing as simple as reminders to keep elbows off the table, and are more in the range of "forks do not go in your nose," our family of five can often be observed laughing at each other around the old IKEA dining table.  Oh, I meant laughing with each other, of course.  Okay, okay, not always.  Anyway.  I believe that my children are all the proof that the scientific world needs to confirm the Humor Gene, or at least the Silly Gene.  When my nine year old son throws some sarcastic aside across the table, or pipes up with a wryly humorous observation about the constant craziness that is our family's life, I hear my father's quiet chuckle in my head.  When our four year old daughter gives a repeat performance of the "Do you like my mustache?" routine that she created a little while back, that consists of simply holding any small object under one's nose and speaking in a voice that is eerily reminiscent of Borat, my heart beams with pride that she knows she's being funny.  And when my two year old son dons a pair of shorts, on his head, and immediately searches our faces for the reaction that he has come to expect, we know that he's intentionally trying to make us laugh.

I may not have held court on any comedy club stage or had the pleasure of being a part of an improv troupe on stage or screen, but I have been known to bring down the house with a group of four year olds or even lighten the mood at a school staff meeting in my day.  I love my mom dearly, and I appreciate all the traits she has passed down (except for those damn ankles gone AWOL), but I know that I have my witty, sarcastic, perfectly-timed funny dad to thank for my own Funny Gene.  I'm more than tickled pink to imprint it on my own offspring's genetic material.

Some families have Game Nights, or Wii tournaments, or even just pizza and movie fests.  Perhaps when the kids get a little older, we'll have to institute Stand-Up Saturday Nights.  Now I've just got to choose which wall will get the brick treatment.

This is an original DC Metro Moms post. 

Dawn blogs nonsense about her family at my thoughts exactly, and tries to sound intelligent when she reviews books at 5 Minutes for Books.