I recently read a poem (which for the life of me I can’t find; I really need Google-for-real-life) in which the speaker talked about how much he hated it when adults laughed at him for stuff he did as a kid. You know what I’m talking about? I’m not talking about laughing when kids are acting silly. I’m not talking about laughing with them. I’m talking about laughing when they are doing something that’s very serious—for them—yet for whatever reason it strikes adults as amusing.
The poem was poignant and I thought, I wish I had written that. Mainly it cheered me because I thought I was the only one who hated this as a child. Oh! How I hated it. Like there was an in joke that I wasn’t entitled to get. More to the point, that I *was* the joke. My indignation at being laughed at seemed to make people laugh more.
So, I guess I was a serious kid. I wasn’t unhappy, I was just always very aware that I was not an adult, that I had not crossed that threshold, and the in-laughter of adults only seemed to highlight that.
To this day it is sometimes hard for me to laugh at myself. It’s easier when it’s a behavior that I myself have noticed, but if someone else points out a behavior, even when I see the humor in it, it’s much harder to just let go of my own seriousness. Is this because of memories of being laughed at or because of my own temperament?
Who cares; in some sense it doesn’t matter. But I make a concerted effort to avoid this with my own children. Of course, I want to help my kids learn to take themselves lightly. Life is much more enjoyable when we do. Laughing-with is a great thing. And sometimes they are just delightful and funny and I can’t help myself. But I really try not to do it, or I will share the moment later with R and we will be tickled by something the girls do. But not in their presence. I really work on this.
I also know I was guilty of this with my younger siblings. The infamous time was with my sister, who was really angry about something and she yelled, “That’s it! I’m going up to my room and I’m never coming down. I’m going to DIE up there!”
And she stomped away as the rest of us laughed. (OK, it still makes me chuckle.) I don’t know what it was that set her off. It was probably “dumb” by more mature standards, but so what? It wasn’t dumb to her. I believe in helping kids develop a sense of proportion about things, but not in the moment. She was MAD. And we laughed. And this is not to point fingers at my parents or anyone else, because it seems like most adults do this.
Having reflected on it since then, I think that laughing at a kid for the way she expresses something that’s deeply important to her—it just feels like a form of violence to me. I wish I could think of a different way of saying that, since I don’t want to trivialize actual intentional physical and emotional violence inflicted on children. I just think that each person has an intrinsic dignity, including and perhaps especially children. (When I took the parenting class last year this emerged as one of my basic values.) When we laugh-at, even if oh - my - god - it - is - SO - adorable—it’s like we’re taking something from them, something we’re not entitled to.
Comments welcome, as always. Though authors of “Hey, lighten up” remarks will be put On Notice. 
14 Responses to “i don’t laugh at kids”
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This post was prompted by a story from a friend, who was in a public market recently and saw a father tell his 18 month old son to “say goodbye to the sexy ladies [behind the counter.]” At which point the boy lifted his shirt and pretended to strum his belly while the dad made the bom-chicka-wow-wow “fake porn music” sound.
Which is a whole separate topic—people teaching children inappropriate shit for their own infantile amusement, just because they can. But it reminded me of this topic that’s been kicking around in my head.
As with most things, I think the middle ground is the way to go. I’m hopefully going to have enough tact as a parent to pull it together when my kid says something unintentionally funny in an act of anger/disappointment. I hope I’ll fall on that side of the road more often than not. But if they’re throwing a temper tantrum and say something unintentionally funny, I may be a little less willing to hold it back.
Age is going to play a big part in this. The younger they are, the more you have to keep it together. The older they get, I think humor can be a good way to show a kid how childish they’re acting. Ask me again in 4 years when Parker’s running the household.
Hmmm. I hope this post doesn’t make it seem like I’m going to laugh off my child on a regular basis, because I don’t think teasing is the best way to teach a child. But I do have memories of Dad and Mom mildly laughing at some of the stupid sh*t I used to say in the middle of a temper tantrum. And I think it helped me “grow up a bit.
Regardless, “I’m going to die in my room” is one of those classic family lines that’ll never die. When Katie passes on many, many moons from now, her gravemarker should read, “Here lies Katie Geist: She died in her room.”
This is really a good post.
First, I have to say, “I’m sorry.”
Next, I have to say that my laughter has caused me some trouble in my life. I remember way back as a child “laughing” at classmates when they got into trouble at school. I was even sent to the principal’s office on one occasion and my parents were called. Laughter, for me then, and still is now, something I use in stressful situations.
But you’re right as far as it involves laughing at children. I’ll try to do better with my grandkids.
Mamala, read the interview with Stephen Colbert in yesterday’s Parade Magazine (yes Parade!). He said something like, “You cannot be filled with fear when you’re laughing.” So laughter does have a place in stressful situations.
Anyway, I’m sure I’ll screw my kids up in some other fashion. (Not that I consider myself screwed up!)
I hope lil sis reads this post because it would be interesting to hear how she experienced/experiences that die-in-my-room incident. Knowing her it probably rolls off her back.
It is indeed a classic in family folklore.
Well… this is very disturbing. I was busy “dieing” in my room, and you were all downstairs laughing at me? I did not realize this at the time. Now I am truly traumatized. Wouldn’t you have felt bad if I had actually died? That would have shown you….
I never thought about it, but I am very sensitive to J-girl when she is genuinely upset about something. Sometimes she expresses herself in a way that is hard to take seriously (I can’t describe why - just something about her mannerisms). Dan will occasionally brush it off, and I go kind of “postal” on him (”she needs to have the opportunity to express herself!!!!”). Likewise, I get excessively peeved when I feel like I am not taken seriously about something.
That being said, there is a difference between genuine emotions a temper tantrum. Take the feelings seriously… the tantrum, not so much. I’m not sure where my “threats of death” would fall on that tantrum/feeling scale.
If I had been born this century, maybe instead of saying “I’m going to go die in my room” I would have said “I’m going to go blog in my room!”
If God had not given my second child the ability to say some of the most ridiculously funny and inappropriate things as he was throwing his horrible fits, I would have lost it by now. He gets frustrated, angry, and in the past aggressive….and sometimes that is just funny. Laughing is a way to distance myself from his response and not take his stuff on. (And yes, I know that as the adult I should remain calm, cool and collected….but if your children have not made you act inappropriately and shamefully then you are blessed.)
Ignoring some behaviors just doesn’t work with some children. Laughing at them does. It breaks the tension, changes the tide and makes everyone take a deep breath.
My dad’s disabled. As a child, I was always struck by the cruelty of laughter, because people often laughed at the way he walked.
I think, for that reason, we didn’t laugh at each other.
My husband, for the last fourteen years, has been working hard to teach me how to have a sense of humor about myself. It’s been a great gift.
But…I’ll never forget those early lessons either….
Oh, I was SO that kid when I was younger. Hated talking about girls because I always knew my parents would chuckle when I was deeply anxious about it. To this day I struggle at trying new things because I HATE being the guy who gets laughed at for not being “in the know.”
That having been said, I had never thought about this from a parental perspective until you posted this. Thanks - it’s helped me look at how Ainsley and I interact and how I can help her avoid some of the angst and paranoia that I have to manage today. And, like you said, I’m sure I’ll add in some other kind of angst and paranoia, but at least it’ll be HERS, not mine.
Sherry, you are so right about not taking on the kid’s stuff. This morning M was SO upset because she wanted to wear C’s shoes. She would not calm down. I’m not always able to remain detached from that, but the times I can are a real blessing. Her feelings did not infect my day.
But for me, laughter is not a part of that differentiation. Does it actually snap *him* out of it or just you? If the former, well then you’ve found what works for your kid. Wouldn’t have worked for me.
I also think having a good laugh later, *with* the child, after she’s calmed down, is part of how we teach a child to take herself less seriously. I just don’t see how that works in the moment, unless a kid really knows she’s being irrational and is relieved that the parent gives her an “out.”
I think it is like the T.Berry Brazelton thing of holding and hugging a tantruming child in one’s lap to help them regain control. That just didn’t work with a 35 pound three year old who was 1/3 the weight of his mother, especially if the legs and arms were flying. We stumbled upon a new way to regain control.
It became a way to give an “out”, as you put it. It became a different way to approach frustration, to laugh at the situation and find a unique way around the problem at hand. Laughing “with” afterwards embarrasses him. He says it reminds him of his mistakes.
Did it snap me out of it? Maybe. I will say that I absolutely detested being laughed at or with as a child (and still if honest) and that this would not have worked with me. Everyone is different. It was and is hard to learn that my kids react differently than me to things.
Uh, that would be 1/4 of his mother’s weight. And it isn’t true anymore.
I would hope he’s not 1/4 of your weight anymore…
That would make me 400lbs. He’s 11.
Thanks for posting this. We need to work on it more here. I have one child who is particularly sensitive to the laughing with/near/about business. Sadly for him, we are all laughers. I’ll be thinking about this more and working to change my reactions (or gauge them better).