Don't Make Them Laugh

When I was a little girl my family was asked to speak in church.  I remember my mom creating a talk just for me.  Each day we would pull out the index card with my part and practice.  By the time we spoke I was ready.  I had memorized my part perfectly.  Sitting on the stand waiting for my turn, I was nervous, but excited. 

I climbed on the stool at the microphone and looked out over what seemed like hundreds of people.  I took a deep breath and repeated my memorized talk.  To my horror, they laughed. I stepped down from the microphone shocked and confused.  Why were they laughing?  I did it perfectly, why did they laugh?  I still remember my sadness and shame. 

Now looking back I’m certain they must have laughed because of my cuteness or how my child voice sounded in the mike.  I’m sure I tickled them and made them happy. But as I child all I could imagine for their laughter was that I’d made a mistake.

One Sunday morning Emma was in my room practicing her part for the Primary program.  She helped me write the part, supplying the example and some of the words.  It was adorable.  It made me smile every time I heard it.  As she finished up another go through I told her that when she said her part in the program the people might laugh.  Her smile faded and she crumpled. I soothed her by telling her it was okay.  They would only laugh because it was so cute, because they understood exactly what she was talking about, because it made them happy.  She wouldn’t listen.  It didn’t matter.  All my grown up reasons for their laughter didn’t change how it would make her feel to be laughed at.  I tried and tried to convince her and then I realized my mistake. 

You see, I really wanted her to say that part.  I wanted them to laugh.  I wanted them to see how cute my little girl was.  I wanted the pleasure of being part of their pleasure.  I had told her they might laugh to prepare her, not to protect her, to make sure she didn’t mess up from the surprise of their laughter.  As I realized what I was doing I felt the censure of the Spirit. We are charged not to offend our little ones, charged to protect them. 

I bent down and brushed her hair away from her face.  “We can change your part,” I said.  “It will be easy. We’ll just change these words.  It won’t be so different and they won’t laugh.” She looked up hopefully, her eyes still wet with tears. We practiced the revised part a few times and she was good to go.  She was calm, relieved and unafraid.

I don’t think she’s given the incident another thought, but I have thought of it often.  I know this isn’t the first time I have wanted to make people laugh at the expense of my child.  I would never do it maliciously or in an attempt to ridicule, but I know I have teased or shared stories to make people laugh.  I see it from an adult’s point of view.  It’s cute and fun and I just want to laugh and make others laugh too.  But to my child, who doesn’t understand the laughter, it has the potential to wound and betray.  I need to be more careful.  I need to consider what life is like for my little one.  I have to remember what it was like for me.  Hopefully, Emma will never have to feel the confusion or shame I felt when I gave my talk.  Hopefully, the first time she makes people laugh during a talk it will be because she wants to make them laugh, because she understands how laughter brings us together and makes us friends.  Until then I will protect her as much as I can.