I was wrestling around with Archer on our bed today, and after about five minutes of squeals and giggles, he pulled himself to standing on the headboard, grew very somber, and gazed intently out the window. Confident that I could lure him back into our whimsical play, I threw a blanket over my head and roared like a monster.
He looked back at me and fake-laughed.
It was a short, monotone chuckle that was clearly designed to let me know that he had moved on to other interests, and I really wasn't all that funny anymore.
This new fake laugh can now be added to his repetroire of counterfeits: the fake smile (pictured below), the fake cough, and the fake cry.
At eleven months, I'd call it advanced acting.
