"We are so hilarious.
I feel bad for the people who don't get to listen
to our conversations and enjoy our hilariousness."
-- Unknown
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| Polymer clay heads laughing their asses (if they had asses) off 5-28-14 |
Every family has its own unique culture with its own unique set of rituals, language, dietary practices, behaviors and religion.
For instance, my family's unique culture includes the ritual of going out to the movies on Christmas Eve.
One of our unique behaviors is calling each other by made-up nicknames. We've gotten so used to our "AKAs" that it sounds really weird when we call each other by our "real" names.
Our family uses words and phrases that would mean nothing to the outside listener. For instance: "I can't catch this fish." This phrase has nothing to do with actual fishing. It is the inability to stab peach slice onto your fork while it slips around on your plate.
Etcetera.
My favorite element of our unique family culture though, by far, are the inside jokes.
If you are lucky enough to live in a family with a sense of humor, like I am, then you know what inside jokes are -- they're the cryptic, funny, (and in our case hugely inappropriate) things you say to each other that only you understand because only you know the circumstances behind the joke.
That's the power of a good inside joke -- knowing that only the people who are in on it "get" it.
I don't think I've ever laughed as hard outside my own home as I have when we are cracking up over something that is only funny -- that is hysterically funny -- to just us.
If you've ever tried explaining an inside joke to an outsider, then you know it's like watching a tire slowly go flat. That's why it's crucially important to keep inside jokes inside, so the funny doesn't leak out.
With all due respect to people who say "a family that prays together stays together," I'd like to cast my vote for inside jokes.
I don't want my kids to remember me, necessarily, for the profound lessons I taught or the deep spiritual impact I had on their lives (as if). I don't want them to remember what I made them think about or ponder. Personally, I'd much rather they remember me for how I made them feel when I said something that caused them to laugh so hard it hurt, that made them roll off the couch onto the floor or spit their Starbucks out their noses -- I live for that shit.
Family laughter is a gift. I love it when a joke that starts between two of us spreads to include three, and then all four of us. When we're all cracking up over the same thing and nobody is left out wondering what the hell's so funny -- it's beautiful.
It's probably hugely inappropriate, but beautiful.
