Sometimes I Cry: Laughing At You

Three days ago I saw something that made my day a little brighter.
A kid slipped in the mud.
For some reason this guy decided to walk directly into the ONLY puddle that was in the middle of a dirt patch.
As soon as his foot made contact with the soggy earth, it glided through the mud, soaring into the air, bringing his other leg with him. His entire body flipped, with his legs directly up in the air, resembling the letter “V.” The other half of his body met the ground, smearing his entire back with mud. He got up, and continued his walk of shame to fourth period.
What was my initial reaction? I laughed very hard, the scene basically made my day. Did I feel bad for him? Sure, I suppose so. I would feel sad for anyone that got drenched in mud and looked like they soiled themselves. However, it was ultimately funny, especially because it was 100% his fault, quite literally walking into that ‘mudslide’. His shocked expression is what stuck out to me the most. It was the transition from fear to acceptance once he was halfway down his journey. To spare his dignity, I laughed quietly.
Watching people go through unfortunate situations is quite amusing. No, I am not talking about traumatic or dangerous situations. I simply like to witness the unlucky events people go through in their lives. For instance, the relatable battle of stubbing your toes.
At least once a month my father stubs one of his toes really hard. Every time, without fail, my father screams, “AHHHHHHH”, mourning his “crushed soldier.” When I witness this monthly occurrence, what else can I do but laugh? My sister says that I am a bully, but aren’t I amazing for finding humor in the bleakest moments? I am single handedly saving the mood, am I not?
You may think I am being mean, but I can assure you I am not. I don’t laugh at just strangers and family, but also myself.
I remember a time I was drinking lemonade my mom made for me. For some reason she put ginger in it to make it “healthier.” Perhaps it was healthier. However, the added vitamins, or whatever the ginger was supposed to do, made my lemonade equivalent to acid. As I was drinking this said liquid, my sister poked my stomach. For some reason I found this hilarious and proceeded to laugh, resulting in me blowing my acid lemon water through my nose: disintegrating all my sinuses. That only made me laugh more.
Why is this funny? The things that make me laugh in these situations are the victims’ reactions. The stranger’s expression of defeat, my fathers’ battlecry, or the ordinary setting that my sinus’ murder took place. They are funny because it could happen to anyone, no one is spared. I think it is important to laugh at the little things. It minimizes the damage which our egos face, giving them the chance to become a happy memory.