The other day Lydia stumbled up to me claiming that she had hurt her foot.

“Oh no.” I said, examining her obviously unharmed toes. “Do you need Daddy to kiss it? Would that make it feel better?”

She gave me an exaggerated pout and shook her head, “No. I think it needs a Dance Party.”

I think she might actually be onto something. This evening when I got home from work, Clara was complaining about her stomach hurting. But just 20 seconds into “ABC” and she was break dancing on our bedroom floor claiming it was all better.

Try it. It’s miraculous.