Our 17-year-old daughter was carefully adjusting her schedule for an unusual school assignment. Set aside a weekend when you have no other activities or obligations, her teacher warned. The advice was the first indication that a seismic wave was about to hit our peaceful home.
On Friday afternoon, Ella gingerly carried her Life Span Development project into the kitchen. An infant wearing a faded blue onesie gazed up at us from a baby carrier. Though modestly attired, he held an important job as chief actor with Parenting Boot Camp, Inc. “Meet Theo,” said Ella. “He’s a newborn.” The name means “divine gift from God,” and we warmly welcomed and tended to him with proper devotion.
Ella looked bright-eyed and enthusiastic, and I grabbed my phone and took a picture that captured her mood. Later, I came to think of it as the Rainbows and Roses phase. After a short honeymoon, Theo began to wail, and Ella frantically searched her bag for a bottle and fresh diaper. Like a real baby, Theo had pressing physical and emotional needs, and the computer chip stored inside his body would track her response time and whether she adequately supported his head and neck. Handle the baby roughly and the teacher would reveal her disapproval with a failing grade. At a retail value of $1,000, Theo was the most deluxe baby doll to ever shake his booties in our upstairs playroom.
For a novice, the responsibility was daunting. Within the hour, Ella summoned her friends for support. By the time they arrived to help with the night shift, she was coasting on pure adrenaline. The girls dropped their suitcases in the hall and quickly formed a community of cooing aunties. So Theo needed a diaper change? Each young woman cried, “Let me!” Nothing was more important than meeting the little fellow’s whims. Forming a protective circle with their sleeping bags, they remained faithfully at his side and worked together to puzzle out his needs. Sometimes Theo’s tears subsided when one of the girls took time to hold him close and sing a lullaby. The kid deserved an Academy Award for his performance.
Teenage circadian rhythms meant that it was no problem to care for the baby at midnight. But awaken several times each hour through the night to tend him? Seriously. At dawn, the aunties staggered outside to return to their carefree lives. Ella had to stand on her own now, and there was no convenient 1-800 number for calls to the plastic baby’s pediatrician. I didn’t exactly embrace the role of honorary Granny and made sure to close my bedroom door every night. After all, students should do their work without parental assistance.
Ella strapped the baby safely into his car seat before running her errands. Five miles down the road, she had to turn back and retrieve the forgotten diaper bag. Theo was likely sick of listening to her Spotify playlist. And Ella? “This is a pain,” I heard her mutter. As she voiced frustration, I realized that my stories about her early days had focused on the joy of reading Good Night Moon and of watching her take her first steps. I’d skipped over the feelings of incompetence and sleep deprivation that come first. It was hard to watch my energetic teenager lose her vibrancy as fatigue took over. Her mood was quickly going south.
On Sunday night, she carried Theo downstairs and collapsed into a chair, hoping to watch her favorite Netflix series. His bawl drowned out the characters’ dialogue, and she moaned. “What could be wrong with him now?” Then she buried her face deep in a pillow, eyes closed as she sought escape from the pressure. Now Ella wasn’t even aware that I was taking a picture that represented the Depleted and Exhausted phase. Theo had no regrets. The skilled actor had done his job and provided a window into the responsibilities of nurturing a human life.
This consuming project was winding to a close. Early Monday morning, Ella fed Theo before setting off for school. In the afternoon, she returned empty-armed and with a diploma from Parenting Boot Camp. Now she was ready to be the center of attention. Donning pajamas, she requested a cup of hot chocolate and fell asleep mumbling something about a bassinet.
After a good night’s sleep, she was more excited than ever about her own dreams and aspirations. None of her plans involved caring for a tyke named Theo. Meanwhile, the baby continues to visit homes in the city’s school district. So long as his computer chip works, he will be an instrumental educational tool. As for Ella, she will likely one day consider her own child a divine gift. But why call him Theo? It’s better to get a start fresh, and she’ll have the advantage of experience gained over that long weekend. I just hope that the next family buys a new onesie for the little dude. Someone needs to step up. After all, Theo is a prophet to a new generation and is tireless in his mission. Cue the applause, parents.