We were making Play-Doh faces. She didn't fully understand that the eyes were the eyes. I'm not sure that my poor attempt at art insured her understanding that it was a face at all.
It all started with the nose. She picked it up and stuck it to the eye.
"WHAT? You can't stick her nose to her eye."
She started laughing, and did it again.
"WHAT? You can't stick her nose to her eye."
Again, the laughing, and again she did it again. I gave the same comment. Then she picked up the eye and pretended to eat it.
"WHAT? You can't eat her eye."
We were both laughing now. Full fit. Eyes watering. Laughing.
She pretended to eat it again. Same response. Same laughter.
We repeated this for approximately three dozen times. She never wearies of things she finds funny. I never weary of hearing her laugh. Sometimes, as I know the joke is no longer funny, I continue pretending to laugh so that she will keep laughing.
Finally, she fell into me with fits of laughter, and I caught her by the bum. It was soaking. Not the little accident soaking, the soaking that made the tops of her socks wet.
"Did you go pee pee in your pants?"
She was still laughing, and nodding. Then, she put the eye back up to her mouth.
A little while later, I changed her pants.
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