Joanne is trying to take Mike's temperature and he's just not cooperating. He's pushing and fussing and generally being a very difficult little boy.

So I get up off the couch and start doing the Baby-Distracting Dance.

The Baby-Distracting Dance is... complicated. Basically, any sort of rhythmic movement -- with a pretty loose definition of "rhythmic" -- that will keep a wide-eyed infant focused on you instead of whatever your spouse is trying to do to him counts. But babies bore pretty easily, so the dance, by necessity, changes randomly. It's easily mistaken for a grand mal seizure, for instance.

But it works. I'm distracting Mike enough to let Jo keep the thermometer under his arm.

And during a, um, particularly enthusiastic twirl, I look out the sliding glass door and notice the dog in the back yard, watching me as intently as the baby, and wagging her tail.