Greg Samsa awoke one Saturday morning to the sound of a baby crying. He got out of bed, remembered that his wife had left for a teacher's convention the night before and knew that he had to take care of things. He put on his bathrobe and went into the nursery.

"Jen-ny" he sang. "Daddy's here, Jenny. Daddy's here." He felt around in the crib for the baby and picked her up. Jenny's crying continued, but with less force.

"Are we hungry?" Greg asked, bouncing the little girl in his arms as he carefully navigated into the kitchen. He put a saucepan of water to heat on the stove, then prepared a baby bottle one-handed and set it in the saucepan. Jenny's cries continued. "I've got to change her diaper," he thought. Laurie usually took charge of that task--manipulating the diaper while he helped to clean the baby-- but she was in Chicago.

"Why didn't I think to get some practice while she was here?" he asked Jenny. "That's okay, Muffin. Daddy will fix it."

One important lesson Greg had learned in graduate school was that not knowing an answer to a question was not nearly as bad as not knowing how to find an answer.

Greg went into the living room, where the computer was. He always left the computer running, so it only took a moment to get online. He selected "Fred's Head" from his bookmark file. He chose "Quick Search" from the search options, and typed "baby diaper" in the search field. He got two titles in response:

"Caring for Infants" said the computer. "How to diaper a baby. Back to top." Greg selected "how to diaper a baby," and the computer read:

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