Ilyas and the Search for Baby Ruqayya's First Laugh

Ilyas had a baby sister. Her name was Ruqayya, and she was four months old.

She had round pink cheeks, tiny fingers that curled around his thumb, and a little puff of dark hair that stood up on top of her head like a feather. She smelled of milk and warm blankets. When she yawned, her whole face scrunched up like a raisin.

Ilyas loved her very much. But there was one thing he wanted more than anything.

He wanted to make Ruqayya laugh.

"She smiles," Mama said, "but she hasn't laughed yet. Babies laugh for the first time when they are ready."

"I want to be the one who makes her laugh," said Ilyas. "The very first time."

Mama smiled. "That would be a lovely gift," she said.

So on Saturday morning, while Ruqayya lay on her soft blanket on the living room floor, Ilyas got to work.

First, he tried funny faces. He puffed out his cheeks like a balloon. He crossed his eyes. He stuck out his tongue and wiggled his ears, which he could do just a little bit.

Ruqayya looked at him with her big dark eyes. She blinked. She kicked her tiny feet. But she did not laugh.

"Hmm," said Ilyas. "Maybe she needs something louder."

He ran to his room and came back with his toy drum. Bam-bam-bam! Boom-boom! He played the loudest, most exciting drum song he knew.

Ruqayya's lip wobbled. Her face turned pink. She let out a small, unhappy squeak.

"Oh no," said Ilyas, and he put the drum down very fast. "Too loud. Sorry, Ruqayya."

Mama picked her up and rocked her until she was calm again. "Maybe try something quieter," Mama suggested.

After lunch, Ilyas tried a dance. He hopped on one foot. He spun around in circles. He wiggled like a noodle and flapped his arms like a chicken. He danced until he was dizzy and had to sit down on the rug.

Ruqayya watched him from her bouncy chair. She looked very interested. She even waved one little fist in the air. But she did not laugh.

Ilyas lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. "This is very hard work," he said.

In the afternoon, Grandpa Hamdan came to visit. He had a silver beard and a laugh that rumbled like a happy truck.

"Why such a long face, Ilyas?" he asked.

Ilyas told him all about the funny faces, the drum, and the dance. "I've tried everything," he said. "But Ruqayya won't laugh."

Grandpa Hamdan sat down in his big chair and stroked his beard. "When your father was a baby," he said, "I tried for weeks to make him laugh. I sang songs. I made animal noises. I even wore a pot on my head."

Ilyas giggled at the thought. "Did it work?"

"No," said Grandpa. "But one day, I was just sitting with him, feeling happy, and I sneezed. A big, silly sneeze. And he laughed and laughed."

"A sneeze?" said Ilyas.

"Babies are full of surprises," said Grandpa. "You cannot always make them laugh by trying very hard. Sometimes you just need to be close to them, and be yourself, and wait."

Ilyas thought about that. Waiting was not his favorite thing. But he decided to try.

That evening, after bath time, Ruqayya lay on her blanket in her soft yellow pajamas. Ilyas did not bring his drum. He did not do any dances. He just lay down on the blanket beside her, on his tummy, with his chin in his hands.

"Hello, Ruqayya," he said softly.

Ruqayya turned her head and looked at him.

Ilyas told her about his day. He told her about the funny faces and the drum. He told her about Grandpa Hamdan wearing a pot on his head. He told her that he loved her, even though she was very small and could not play football yet.

Ruqayya listened. She made a little cooing sound, like a dove.

Ilyas noticed a small white feather on the blanket. It must have come out of a pillow. He picked it up and, without thinking about it very much, he tickled the tip of his own nose with it.

His nose twitched. His eyes watered.

"Ah... ah... ah..." said Ilyas.

Ruqayya stared at him.

"Ah... ah... AH-CHOO!"

It was a big sneeze. A huge, silly, wobbly sneeze that made his whole body jump, and his hair flop over his eyes.

And then he heard it.

A tiny sound. A bubbly, gurgly, hiccupy sound.

Ruqayya was laughing!

Her mouth was wide open. Her cheeks were round as apples. Her tiny hands flapped up and down. "Heh-heh-heh-heh!" she laughed.

Ilyas sat straight up. "Mama! Baba! Grandpa! Come quickly!"

Everyone came running into the living room.

"Watch," said Ilyas. He tickled his nose with the feather again. "Ah... ah... AH-CHOO!"

"Heh-heh-heh-heh!" laughed Ruqayya, kicking her feet with joy.

Mama put her hand over her heart. Baba grinned from ear to ear. Grandpa Hamdan's laugh rumbled like a happy truck, and that made Ruqayya laugh even more.

"Her very first laugh," said Mama softly, kneeling beside them. "And it was for you, Ilyas."

Ilyas felt as if a warm sun was shining inside his chest. "I didn't even try," he said. "I was just being me."

"That's the best way," said Grandpa Hamdan, and he winked.

Ilyas did his silly sneeze three more times. Each time, Ruqayya laughed her bubbly laugh. On the fourth time, she yawned an enormous yawn instead, and her eyes began to close.

Mama picked her up gently. "Time for bed, little one," she whispered.

Ilyas kissed his sister's soft cheek. "Goodnight, Ruqayya," he said. "Tomorrow I'll sneeze for you again."

Ruqayya gave a sleepy little smile, as if she was already looking forward to it.

That night, Ilyas put the small white feather in a special box on his shelf. He called it the laughing feather. And whenever Ruqayya was cranky or sad, he knew just what to do.