Colic Cure.

Okay, well, not "cure."

But Jason and I have majorly limited Adelyn's crying tonight (and last night) by dancing our asses off.

We set her on our big, comfy, recliner, sitting upright. Then we take turns picking songs and dancing like no one's watching. Adelyn stares, transfixed, mostly at her dad who has a better ability to dance with every single part of his body.

I mean, you can't just sort of shimmy to keep her attention. You have to give it your all.

Last night Jason danced for her for thirty minutes straight. Afterward he collapsed on the floor, and Adelyn promptly started screaming.

I can hear the Beastie Boys coming from my living room as I type. And guess what? I don't hear any crying.