TwoBert's still teething like a mofo, so one of the best ways to distract him from the pain is to play Barber Chair. I lie on my back, he sits on my hands, and I ratchet him upward until I can lock my arms, give him a little swivel, and ratchet him back onto my gut abs. The whole thing makes him cackle--especially when he's at the top and bending over to look down at me.
The fun part for me is playing chicken with the little spit-goobers that fall from his mouth. He's still drooling like Vesuvius, but now he's deep into a raspberry/motorboat phase that ensures that every drop ends up outside his body. So I keep him up there just long enough before the bomb-bay doors open and his little depth charge sidles into place. Have you ever looked up at a sheet of saliva hurtling toward your forehead? It's a total adrenaline rush. For a 40-year-old, anyway.
