Baby Taylor Stomach Care
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Taylor’s sweet tooth always led her straight to the kitchen after meals, and today was no exception—vanilla ice cream piled high, drizzled with caramel, vanished in minutes. But the sugary bliss didn’t last. Soon, her stomach twisted into knots, leaving her curled on the couch. Enter Dr. Pepper (yes, that’s his real name) and Nurse Waffles, a duo more chaotic than a melted sundae. “Classic case of *Frozen Overindulgence Syndrome*,” declared Dr. Pepper, adjusting his stethoscope upside-down. “Prescription? One dad joke, stat!” Nurse Waffles tossed a thermometer like a confetti popper. “And a lifetime supply of… *moderation*,” she whispered, faux-solemn. Taylor groaned—partly from pain, partly from the puns—but giggled when the “anti-ache dance” (a glorified chicken dance) began. By the tenth wiggle, her stomach settled. Lesson learned: next time, maybe skip the triple scoop… or just dance faster.
