Comedienne

We’ve been sick.  Again.  Second time in three weeks, which is definitely a new record for us.  Piper really NEVER gets sick, so we’re both very new to the how-to-make-her-feel-better routine.  This time it even came with a high fever, all night long, the other night.  It was NOT fun. 

But, even when she’s sick, she’s still, quite possibly, the funniest person I’ve ever known.  When we were told by the Perinatologist that she suspected either Down syndrome or Turner syndrome (where one of the sex chromosomes is missing or incomplete), Luke was doing some Googling (surprise, right?) and found a woman in Australia who’s a stand-up comic.  She has Turner’s.  The title of her act?  “Dude- where’s my chromosome?”.  Somehow finding this lady gave us a little glimmer of hope; Turner syndrome is nothing really like Ds, don’t get me wrong, but the idea that she could find the humor in her diagnosis must mean life ain’t that bad, right?

Piper is a crack UP.  I swear, some days we never stop laughing.  Mostly because if we’re not laughing, she finds a way to make herself laugh.  Literally.  To the point that she’ll lift up her shirt and tickle her own tummy if she’s desperate enough. 

So that I don’t forget some of the humor, and because I’m in desperate need for some funnies after the last few days, I wanted to document some of the daily hilarity that occurs at our house:

• The other day I was changing Piper’s clothes.  She had zilch on as she ran away from me squealing.  This isn’t anything new, but after a few minutes, I wondered what she was doing.  I found her staring at herself, laughing, in the full-length mirror, marveling at all of her nude-y goodness.  Apparently she’s always wondered what she actually looks like.   
• Piper’s a pretend-play maniac.  She has four or five little baby dolls, all of whom she loves and cares for.  Apparently they all have the same nap time, which is quite a conundrum because we only have one little baby bed.  And only three fit.  One is always naughty and keeps getting up.  She needed a bed for naughty #4 the other day, so she took the baby to the front room, found a little soft basket, and brought her back next to the others.  She kept a hand on her for a while to make sure she didn’t escape.  Apparently she’s a flight risk.
• She also loves to pretend eat.  Most mornings I’ll get her down from her chair after breakfast, she’ll beeline to a baby, and feed her with a pretend fork.  Complete with “nom nom nom” noises.  How do you not laugh at that?
• But the babies aren’t the only victims participants to Piper’s charades- the dogs are frequently force-fed with pretend silverware, cups, straw cups, tea pots…  One of our dogs sees her coming and goes the other way.  Invasion of personal space, or something.  The other dog will just lay there and play dead as Piper’s probing the inner linings of his face with a (thankfully) non-pokey plastic fork. 
• Last week when we were sick with a cold, we taught her how to cough.  Surprisingly, it worked.  Now whenever she hears someone cough, she mimics it.  Even if it’s a stranger at the store.  Nice.
• When we go to the store, we’re always on a hunt for something.  It used to be doggies; she’d just sit and sign (or say) doggy over and over and over again until we found a picture of one or a stuffed one- she didn’t care, she just wanted to see one.  Now it’s changed into bunnies and/or babies.  We went to the shopping center on Monday after my doctor’s appointment and walked into a Target that we normally don’t go in to.  Somehow she knew it was Target (even though we walked in through the “back door” mall entrance), and started looking at the ceiling for their Easter banners with the chocolate bunnies on them.  And until we found one, she was not amused.  Sometimes I want a sign on her that says “no, I’m not twitching, I’m talking”, because the enthusiastic and erratic arm flailing that occurs with some of her signs may be questionable to unsuspecting passers-by.
• We’re having issues with her calling all kids “babies”.  Thankfully the eight-year-olds that she’s calling a baby have no idea what she’s signing.  Sometimes having a child with minimal speech skills isn’t all bad.  So we’re working on “boy” and “girl”.  Problem is, how do you teach your kid that some kids who are bigger than they are are babies, and some kids who are bigger than they are are not???
• Piper walked out of my room the other day laughing hysterically.  When she came into view, I saw my little munchkin walking around with my pajama shorts around her neck.  And this, my friends, is why our dear therapists have no idea what they’re in for on a regular basis.
• She also attempts to dress the dogs.  Yeah.  You can imagine how well that works out.
• As much as she loves her dogs, she’s a pro at egging them on.  Her favorite place is at the back screen door, where she can look out and “bark” at them (yup- “woof woof”) until they bark back.  They, of course, can’t figure out why she doesn’t let them inside.  The other “I’m more important than you are” location is at the top of the stairs on the “good” side of the gate.  I think she likes that one because they’ll kiss her through the spindles until she can hardly breath she’s laughing so hard.
• Her dad is a musician.  For those of you lucky enough not in the loop with “these” folks, everything is a musical instrument.  It has gotten exponentially better since Luke discharged from the Marine Band (holy moly) seven years ago (seriously???), but unfortunately the experience, I think, has vested the musicality into his genes.  Piper can make music of anything.  Including the old spacer we have from her inhaler last fall.  Apparently there’s a way to make a harmonica sound from it; I, of course, cannot replicate it.
• On that note (haha), Piper likes playing her xylophone with a hula hoop.  Don’t ask me where that idea came from.
• She’ll place her music cube on the far side of the coffee table, find the right song, go to the center of the room and dance until the song is done.  Then she’ll sit down and wait for us to clap for her.  When we’re done, she goes back to the music cube and starts the whole process over again.  The whole thing is made even more hilarious by the fact that the songs are only about 30 seconds long.
• Everything is a phone to Piper.  If you’re actually on the real phone, though, she insists on listening for a minute to find out who’s on the other end.  This is fine if it’s my mom, or Luke, or someone I know.  It’s not so great when I’m on the phone with the doctor’s office, the tax man, or a myriad of other professionals who, I’m sure, could care less than to talk to my nonverbal two-year-old.
• The kid is in love with her reflection.  Mirror, stove, fireplace, chrome faucet handles…  I like to think we’re fostering a healthy body image.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
• She thinks it’s hilarious to be tickled.  If you tickle one foot, she holds up the other asking to be tickled there, too.  Or she comes up to you and just puts her barefoot in your face and you’re expected to know what she means.  If you start, it’s real difficult to stop.
• My brother has an “evil” laugh.  You always know when he’s doing something he shouldn’t be.  Thankfully (maybe?) Piper has one, too.  If you see the squealing blur running across the house, you know she’s up to something…

I s’pose I should stop.  I need to do something a little more productive.  And less fun.  Like laundry.  And Luke’s going to a Maker Meetup tonight (Have you ever seen the Make: show on PBS?  Some things cost me a fortune, lol), so he won’t be home for dinner.  Which means that I have to muster the desire, energy, and creativity to make something for just Piper and me to eat.  And my house is a disaster after the last couple of days.  I’m so not in the mood…