Frances has an impeccable sense of comedic timing. After I fed her yesterday, she was sitting in my lap and produced a very ominous gurgling. I scrambled for a burp cloth, only to look down and see her smiling happily, no spit-up in sight. I sighed with relief, set down the burp cloth, and turned her back around to face Sarah. Just as I lifted her, Frances let out an arc of spit-up that landed on my lap, my arm, the boppy pillow, and her own dress.