The medicine of laughter

The Sparkle Diamonds were clustered on the carpet. I was at my nearby desk working on the class weekly newsletter. Osato at the moment was the teacher and she was coming alive under all the attention of those fixed eyes and hands waving with questions. The longer she went the more she got into it. Today as the Star of the Week she had brought two items. One was a small plastic car the size of your index finger. Earlier this year she had been bragging about her watch and how it was actually a remote control for her mechanical car. As she passed the cheap car around the kids weren't buying it. This car didn't seem electric or wired at all. And where was her remote control watch? Well, just like numerous other items they mysteriously fell to their doomed death by the teeth or hands or creativity of her younger sister. Poor sister, I wonder if she realizes that she gets blamed for everything.

The second item was a whoopee cushion which when blowed up and sat upon brought a flood of laughter and giggles even from me. Ike shouted above the roar, "Even Ms. Diamond is laughing!" But, I was laughing more at the kids fully abandoned and joyful laughter. But, I have to admit the farts sound so real.

So the kids convinced Osato to allow them each a turn of sitting on it. Over and over again she would blow it up and place it gently under the next culprit. And down they could sit releasing the realistic farts and putters. Then would come the belly laughter and next would come the begs to be next.

At one point after about 13 kids. Osato was giving her speal of choosing someone she hadn't chosen yet. She was stretching out her moments of fame with gusto. Finally she chose Michaela. So, the drama queen placed it under Michaela and announced "Don't worry, it wont bust. Really sit on it!" And as she said the word bust, perfectly synchronized came a mega pop quite different from a gassy fart. Shocked the class was absolutely silent and I was holding back the giggles bubbling up my throat. Because the timing with her words couldn't have been any more perfect.

The kids didn't know how to respond. Was this something terrible or something hilarious? I mean the whoopee cushion did just bust. But, in this awkward moment Ostao examined the deflated plastic and yep there on it's side was the big ripped hole. She held it up at eye level in examination and dramatically mourned. "He lived such a short life, such a short life." Now, those built up giggles cascaded out from me and Mrs. Nnamdi. A couple of kids took this as permission to laugh as well. But, most just sat there with puzzled looks wondering how the death of a whoopee cushion could be so funny. Later in the week Joshua's letter to Osato lamented he never got a turn to fart. He asked, maybe next time?