As the name suggests, the pants are critical.

Every time I change the baby, I take her pants off, turn them inside out and put them on my head like a ski cap. Once they’re up there, I make sure the elastic band is hugging the very tip of my skull. This way, when I tilt my head downward, the legs are like soft and fluffy horns.

Next is where the clown voice comes in. Looming over the baby with the “horns” dangling above her, I shake my head around crazily, causing the “horns” to flop around. As they’re flopping, I dig deep for my best Grover-meets-Bozo voice and yell something along the lines of “Panthorns! Panthorns! Oh no!”

The one-two punch of panthorns and crazy voice gets the baby every time. She smiles. She laughs. She often guffaws.

Sure, her reaction is adorable. But more important, my absurdist Pee Wee Herman impression takes L’s mind off the fact that I’m actually changing her diaper—a chore about which she isn’t always very happy.

It’s gotten to the point where she gets giggly during changing time because she knows the “horns” are coming.

If only our respective bosses used similar techniques to make the workday more palatable.