Unless you're my sister at Mommy and Me class with her baby who's screaming her lungs out. That's when my sister, Jenny, would retreat to the corner of the classroom to do one thing and one thing only: bounce on a ball.

Jenny, like many moms, found that during some of those early dark days-that's how she fondly remembers colic in all its glory-when Kira was only a few months old, if she wasn't a bouncing-baby-girl she was crying-baby-girl. So there were lots of days when Jenny would bounce and bounce and bounce until the cows came home or her back gave out...whichever came first. We're not sure if Kira liked the rhythmic motion of the bouncing or if she felt like she was back in the womb with Jenny shushing and bouncing like there was no tomorrow. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was that Baby was happy and when Baby was happy, Mommy was happy-and life was good. Of course, life got even better when the swing came into play, but that's for another day...