First Laugh

August 3, 2026

Greetings from kaiwhakakata,

For each of us, there is a tiny moment of celebration in nearly every day.  It is easy to miss, easier to take for granted.  It is something we all experience in our own way, but it is a universal part of being alive.

A few months ago, my friend Jan mentioned something to me, almost in passing.  She said that she had just learned that there is a Navajo tradition that marks a baby’s first laugh, saying this is when they become human.  The thought delighted me, and floated around in my head for a while, and ultimately made me laugh.

Our laughter takes a special place in our lives, from the first one to the last one. If we are laughing, it usually means we are happy, which is what I think brings us closest to what we were made for.  If you had to explain it to another species, it would sound almost like magic.

The Navajo celebrate this in a special way. The traditional belief is that humans come to this existence from another spirit world, and learn how to be human, especially through the emotions we experience. The Navajo watch their babies for their first laugh, usually around three months old.  It is an honor to make the baby laugh for the first time, and that person is responsible for putting on a party to celebrate.  They have inspired something important, something almost like magic.

Even writing it out just now, I had to sit back and enjoy that idea. 

A baby’s laugh is irresistible, it pulls us closer, and we are helpless, we have to join in. It is innocent and pure and whatever made the baby laugh, is usually simple and otherwise ordinary.

As years go by we all build up a little resistance to this. The baby’s expectation in humor has a higher bar, and we, as witnesses, are less enthralled, even though the magic hasn’t changed.

I think if we look forward into the child’s future, there becomes a time when laughter is more rare, even in a happy life.  It’s understandable, being silly and laughing at everything starts to take a back seat to conjugating verbs and times tables and being smitten by someone cute.

But I will state here, at least in my experience, the magic of laughing never goes away. 

Sometimes I laugh simply because I am happy, I think of it as ‘smiling out loud’.  Other times I am swept away by some ridiculous thing that demands a guffaw. I recognize I have an impolite laugh; it is too loud, interrupting movies and concerts and yoga sessions.  It is often inappropriate; I laugh in church, in hospitals, in funeral homes. It is an eternal embarrassment for my family.  At various times I’ve made an attempt to tone it down, trying to act my age. 

But as the years have passed, I stop resisting the urge.  There are times now that I have no choice, I am going to laugh regardless of consequence, in part because I don’t want to miss the moment. This could be a foretelling of something, me having an increasing list of things in common with an infant.

A few years ago, I was on a big adventure with some friends. I wrote in my journal: “June 2: I have laughed more in this week than I have in the five years before.”  This isn’t to say that I wasn’t enjoying my life, but it does point out how remarkable laughing had become. And, that sometimes you just connect with the right people.

Which led me to think about being with people who make me laugh.  These are magic people, very important in our lives, or at least mine.

I’m happy to say it’s a long list. There are a few that stand out, including my brother, Douglas.  He is a regular grown-up person, outwardly appears to be a normal mature adult. Maybe he doesn’t have this effect on other people, but for some reason every time I talk to him, I end up laughing. I don’t mean chuckling or chortling.  I mean gasping for air and tears in my eyes kind of laughing. I think most people would say he’s not THAT funny, and they’re right. It’s something else.

As I thought about Doug, and the galaxy of laugh-whisperers I know, I am reminded of how important they are.  Imagine these people making other humans laugh, the first time, the tenth time, millions of laughs in all these lifetimes. Suddenly they are more than important, they are magic.

There are things in our way, a layer of life that stands between us and ordinary happiness, and sometimes the layer is too thick to get through on our own. And then someone comes along and maybe without trying, makes you laugh.  Whoever brings these little happy explosions to you are like a portal to the life you are meant to live. 

It is a unique experience, laughing. It comes from the middle of us, maybe where our soul is, and if you try to find words to describe it, it sounds like you have been through something amazing and beautiful, and maybe a little magic.  I’ll admit that I might have taken this for granted from time to time, but I was reminded by my friend Jan, who might be surprised to hear that she makes me laugh too.

The person who brings out the baby’s first laugh is responsible for hosting a celebration, something the Navaho call ‘A'wee Chi'deedloh’. It is a fairly simple event, but the emphasis of the party is to encourage the baby to always be generous with their laughter, and to bring joy, and laughter, to others.

It is a lovely reminder that this is our purpose; to find our way to happiness and bring it to the people we meet every day. Maybe we need to all find a reason to celebrate A'wee Chi'deedloh even when it’s not our first laugh.

Hope this finds you doubled over,

David

(The Navajo do not have a noun for the person who brings laughter, and so I searched for another indigenous people who might supply one, and the Māori offered this: kaiwhakakata.)

This essay was written by the author and does not include Ai content.

Copyright © 2026 David Smith