Alyice on October 19th, 2009
In my daughter’s high school she is taking a class that prepares her for the real world. In this class there is a section on child development. During this section, teenagers learn all about raising a family, including what it’s really like to care for an infant.
This week-end was my daughter’s turn to bring home a fake mechanical baby designed to cry and pee and poop and demand all the attention a real baby would demand. His name was Cody. (Nope, she didn’t pick the baby’s name, it came with the baby.)

Welcome Home Cody © Alyice Edrich, 2009
The first thing out of my daughter’s mouth when she arrived home with the baby was, “We’re not going anywhere all week-end.”
“Ha, Ha,” was my response. “We’re going shopping, we’re going to eat out at a restaurant, and we’re going to the movies.”
“Why?” she asked with a disgruntled tone.
“Because you cannot truly get the real experience of what it’s like to have a baby if you don’t tote it around with you everywhere you go.”
Since the baby was my daughter’s responsibility, she bravely tackled all the “mommy roles” including buckling the baby in and out of the car seat, feeding, burping, changing diapers, carrying the baby everywhere we went, waking up several times during the night, and even having to “hold the baby” simple because the baby needed a little tender loving care. And everything was recorded via an ID bracelet and a journal sheet.
First stop, the local gas station. She would not get out of the car. So she sat in the car, with the heater on (it’s 32 degrees here), until I came back—five minutes later.
Second stop, dinner. My son came down from college so we opted for his favorite restaurant: an all-you-can-eat buffet with sushi (well, California rolls). The waitress starred. She starred so much I finally told her it was a school project and the baby wasn’t real. My daughter got upset at me for bringing attention to her “project” as it made her uncomfortable. Then she started noticing the stares from patrons of the restaurant and she got really uncomfortable. During this time, the baby needed to be fed, burped, and changed.
Third stop, the movies. Over all, the baby did pretty well at the movies—we went at just the right time. Still, the baby needed two diaper changes, two feedings, and to be burped. My daughter hated that she had to miss part of the movie because she had to leave so the baby didn’t distract the other patrons.
Fourth stop, Michaels. She opted to put the baby in the basket instead of holding him. People starred. At first glance, he looked like the real thing. At fourth glance, they looked at my daughter with a weird expression—perhaps wondering why she, a high school student, was transporting a doll around with her.
Fifth stop, Wal-mart. Again the baby went into the shopping basket. She kind of liked the idea of being able to use the basket with the baby carrier instead of having to lug the car seat in with her, or carrying the baby in her arms. People starred, but my daughter learned to tune them out. The baby needed nothing from her, but for her to keep it safe during the entire Wal-mart experience.
Sixth stop, McDonalds. We opted to eat inside, after having just put the baby into the car seat three minutes earlier. My daughter decided she hated the idea of getting in and out of the car so quickly and begged that McDonalds be our last stop of the night. During our meal, some kids in a nearby booth starred. My son took full advantage of the opportunity to hassle my daughter about having a baby at 14 ½ years old—telling her that she should’ve waited to have sex, then grilling her about the baby’s father. My daughter opted to go along with the gag—perhaps the kids would stop staring, or perhaps they’d learn a valuable life lesson and just “WAIT!”
During the night, the baby woke my daughter up several times.
The next day, she begged to stay home. I concurred but not without a little reality check. I decided to give her some chores to do so that she could discover what it was like to try to care for a house and a baby at the same time. It took her nearly two hours to do one sink of dishes. Every time she washed a few, the baby called for her attention: a diaper change, a feeding, a holding.
That night, the baby kept her, and I, up several times as she opted to sleep on the sofa where I got the pleasure of hearing every single cry, coo, and sucking of the bottle.
By the third day, my daughter determined that babies, real or not, were A LOT of work. And not only were they work, but they sucked up all your time, leaving you very little time for other things.
Her conclusion: “Mom, I’m glad I decided last year to wait on having kids until after college or I get married. I’m glad I am wearing my ‘promise ring’ to remind me of the vows I made to myself.”
So yeah, the whole fake baby thing can be a bit daunting—and yes, it would have been easier to just stay home all weekend—but the rewards of truly experiencing it are so worth it!
Oh, and by the way, my son came to the same conclusion six and a half years ago, when he experienced the whole ordeal during his stint in middle school. And from what I’ve been hearing on the streets, I think middle school, not high school, is the right age for such a course!
Give thanks…
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Wow, what a story. I wish some kids I know could go through that course!
Posted at 8:27 am October 21st, 2009Thanks Pam,
Love your site, by the way!
I am glad she went through it, too. Thinking of my own childhood, I wish a lot of kids in the “projects” or “ghetto” could go through this course, too. I knew teenagers who got pregnant far too young and young adults who got pregnant for all the wrong reasons. A course like this, aside from the “fake baby”, helps build self-esteem, teaches them to respect their bodies, and their futures. I think my kids are very lucky to have both gone through these types of courses.
Posted at 2:13 pm October 21st, 2009
I'm a freelance writer, mixed media artist, SMVA, and the owner of The Dabbling Mum.
