Monday 21 March 2011


I’ve started to feel like the court jester that knows he is losing his ability to entertain but is desperate to keep trying as if his life depends on it. In this case, of course I am speaking of entertaining the King. In short, I have become obsessed with getting a laugh out of him. I mean a real hearty belly laugh. You would think this is an easy feat considering he is a baby. I mean on the commercials and in movies babies are howling with laughter at just about anything. One video sweeping YouTube has a baby bursting with hysterics because her father is ripping paper. I tried this of course. The King could give a hoot about ripping paper, unless he can eat the remains when you’re finished with them. 

The plain fact is the King is not an easy laugh. He is about as smiley as it gets, but there is always a bit of focused study behind his eyes deciding if it is worth his time and energy to break into a full fledged guffaw. Of course this has set me on a course of determination – this jester will make the King laugh damn it, or else I suspect he may order the removal of my head. Or at least torture me with incessant crying to show me the price of his boredom. And don’t get me wrong, I do admire a person that makes you work for it, I mean who wants to be around someone that laughs at just about anything. It’s so undiscerning. So the King makes one earn it, I suppose I have to admire that.

So of course this quest for a laugh has turned me into a typical parental idiot. I dance around, I sing, I make weird facial movements, I utter sounds I never even knew I could make, I throw stuffed animals across the room (this got a result from his father, but annoyingly not me); whatever it takes really. Usually the King meets these actions with a courteous wide smile, but it goes no further. And then of course, when I least expect it, I do something – and of course I can never quite figure out what I’ve done – that sends the King into hysterics. I swear, you feel like you’ve won the flipping lottery when this happens. The other day it entailed me jumping up and down waving my arms roaring at the top of my lungs like some mutated lion. Not only does this take energy and produce sweat dripping down the brow, but it can royally piss off the neighbors under you. To hell with them, I had a King to entertain and this jester was succeeding damn it!

I of course had to record this occurrence on my iphone and send it to the King’s father to prove my success. Yes, this elusive accomplishment has of course inspired a healthy competition between the two of us. We’re all adults here of course, but darn it, this court jester likes her head and aims to keep it!
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