Oh, to be tiny!

Laundry is not high on my list of likes. The joy I get from seeing those mountains of stained, soiled clothing is about the same amount of joy I derive from a papercut or a hang nail. I try to keep up, but in a house of 5, it's nearly impossible.
Today I only had one load to fold. On lists of pleasure one load is a -1. 0 is of course complete apathy, and 10 is ecstacy. Each load takes the number farther into the negative. I have never hit a -10...
I digress.
Today I had only one load of laundry to fold. Levi was at my feet playing in his gym. I dive in. You know how you whip laundry sometimes? It gets stuck or crinkly and you grab the top and snap it down? It makes that cool pop sound that you know would hurt a butt if they happened to meet? Anyone? Bueller?
I did that with something. 5 feet below my head someone busts out in giggles. Who knew this was funny? Levi is still at an age where the biggest laughs come from face to face time. He likes peek-a-boo and he likes when the boys play with him. (mostly)
Still, for some reason, this piqued his interest.
I tried again.
SNAP.
HAHAHHAHAH
SNAP.
HAHAHHA
It got to the point where each time I picked up a new piece of laundry he would kick his legs and flap his arms in anticipation. Then,
SNAP.
HAHAHAH
I didn't even have to look at him. But then, how do you not look at a baby with the giggles. So cute. He did it the entire time. Every piece of laundry was acknowledged with tiny joy. For probably the first and last time of my life, I was sad to see the bottom of the laundry basket.