This will not make you laugh.

Lately it seems like the funny fell out. Not just of my words, though this blog has definitely suffered the consequences of being held captive by a keeper who's gone dry. But life in general has lost its funny.

Or not really. It's still there, but I'm just not finding it so easily.

And I don't know why, or I'd get it back. It's mine, after all. The funny is usually mine. I covet it. I thrive on it. I find it even in the smallest little corners of the darkest places in the weirdest conditions. It's always there.

For example.

Hailey is totally obsessed with this little spray bottle I bought her so that I can wet her hair and comb it out as needed. Lately, it's been a bit mop-ish as it grows from long to longer. And in case I've never mentioned it, I have no plans to cut her hair until she starts complaining about it, or when it is getting caught in her waistbands. Which ever comes first. And she's a girl's girl if there ever was one, so I have a feeling it will be the latter. That, and she's pretty terrified of most things found in a salon, so, I've got that going for me.

Anyway, the water bottle. Aside from wanting her hair done every five seconds, she also enjoys using it for a variety of projects throughout the day. Like maybe cleaning. Or drinking. Or horrifying the cat. Today, she was carrying Baby Emma around on a "walk around the block" in our kitchen, and "spraying bunny poop" so that she had a clean pathway. This meant water everywhere. Slippery water.

I told her previously not to spray the floor, and when I found the puddles, I asked her if I had been clear...(Duh.)...because sometimes I realize when I'm speaking, that my tongue is flipping about aimlessly, arms flailing in helicopter fashion, and yet, I could just as well be lounging in the backyard leaving the kids to fend for themselves. Savages with their own rules. And candy.

"But, Mommy, I had to spray the pretend bunny poop!"

"Okay, I understand that, Hailey, but I asked you not to spray the water on the floor."

Frantically, she yells, "but it's pretend BUNNY POOP, Mama!!!" Her frustration is pouncing at me from five feet away...leaping from her lips with a vengeance.

Andrew walked in the house just in time to hear me say, "Okay, then pretend to spray the pretend bunny poop, and pretend the floor is wet."

He looked at me, and we both shared a smile, before I went back to requiring her to wipe up the floor so that no one fell to their death. Because that's totally what would happen if either of the girls stepped in water. Death. And nothing else. Only the worst possible scenario is rational here, you see...because I can't find my funny. In that smile we shared, I realized how horribly I was handling the situation.

There are so many problems with this, on so many levels. First of all, THIS. Is funny. It's not hiding in a small, dark, weird place, either. It's just funny. Her actions, our conversation, my overreaction, all of it.

I should have been laughing on my own from the beginning.

Second of all, I shouldn't have gotten frustrated with my child who was using her imagination so well, playing so nicely, and reasoning so intelligently. She's amazing. It was water. Water. What's wrong with me?

And life is funny. And I'm usually better at finding the funny, focusing on the funny, and telling the funny. So, forgive me, if I've bored you lately. Or if I've depressed you now. Or both. Bleh.