Such a fun age: This is when you’re at your comedic peak

Then it’s outside for what Pip calls A Nice Tea Party. This involves a child’s plastic tea-set, with Pip pouring water into the cups, and us all drinking. The comedy comes from involving the dog, who dutifully slurps from a small plastic saucer, then sticks around to chat as if at a posh afternoon tea.

Pip finds this amusing. So do I. Frankly, Shakespeare’s finest comedies are no match for Clancy Sticking Around to Chat at Pip’s Nice Tea Party.

Did all of us laugh this much when we were this age? It’s pre-memory, for most of us anyway. But I like to think we did. It pleases me that there’s a time when laughter is so close to the surface, so easy to achieve.

Next, Pip slips behind the curtains in the living room. I don’t mean to be critical of my tiny grandson, but his Hide and Seek needs some work. The curtains are shuddering and twitching because he’s laughing so much.
I’m a great believer in my own acting abilities, but even I have to reach deep as I stomp around the room saying, “Where’s Pip, where’s he gone?” as the curtain shakes and sways.

I find him. He laughs. Then he disappears again, behind the same curtain. The same curtain. As I’m standing there, a metre away.

“Where’s Pip?” I say once more, trying to work up a sufficient level of mystery. Stanislavsky himself would be unequal to the level of acting required.

Loading

Later in life, laughter is often achieved with some assistance. Alcohol may be useful. Or a professional comic, playing the Sydney Opera House at $120 a ticket. Or a well-practised anecdote from a friend – providing you can pretend it’s the first time you’ve heard it.

At two years old, by comparison, comedy is everywhere. The world is awash with it. It’s found in a jar of paperclips. Or a cardboard box which you can place on your father’s head. Or a doll that can be encouraged to eat your dinner.

Pip finds it sitting in a stationary car, listening with his Pa to a track by Neil Diamond, as we both try to click our fingers in time. Or racing his Nana up the hallway, as if it’s the Olympics, touching the front door then rushing back again. Or being held upside down and innocently asked: “Why are you upside down, Pip? That’s a very strange thing to do.”

Best of all, those around him are revealed as the funniest people in the world. Is there no end to our comic talent? We are, all of us, hilarious – a triumphant amalgam of Charlie Chaplin, Kath and Kim, Mark Twain, Kitty Flanagan, and that bloke from Kenny.

Well, we’re hilarious when viewed through the eyes of a two-year-old. My question: how long can we make it last?

A cultural guide to going out and loving your city. Sign up to our Culture Fix newsletter here.

To read more from Spectrum, visit our page here.