[First of a series]
Just call me Grandma. Fudgeteen is now the father of a five-pound bundle of joy.
OK, it's actually a five-pound bundle of flour.
His AP Psychology class is embarking on the notorious weeklong "baby unit," in which everyone has to lug their bakery-aisle offspring from class to class (with "day care" available in the psych teacher's room during gym). The goal is to learn a bit about parenthood, but with a baby who can't eat, cry, pee, poop or barf, I'm thinking the learning opportunities here are limited.
All the same, I'm getting strangely excited about the whole thing, and nostalgic about my own new-mom days that now seem impossibly long ago.
The adventure started this morning, when Fudgeteen, Fudgegrandpa and I set off for the grocery store to...well, buy the baby. (No, I'm not sure why the district couldn't have invested in a few dolls.) We found ourselves staring at a wide variety of possible grandchildren.
Fudgeteen selected one, holding it and studying it (with a shade too much amusement), and finally placing it gently in the cart. He then began to exhibit the signs of anxious first-time parenthood, urging us, "Don't put the orange juice on the baby!"
Once we had paid for the infant ($2.69), we headed for the car; it was raining. Fudgegrandpa threw open the trunk to put our purchases inside, and I said the first thing that came to mind: "You can't put the baby in the trunk!"
Fudgeteen countered, "It's not a baby till 7:20 Monday morning!"
I briefly considered starting a discussion of when life begins, but it was raining harder, so we beat a hasty retreat to the warm, dry car. Fudgegrandpa, knowing what was good for him, brought the bag with the baby into the front seat with him. I peeked inside the bag and was intrigued that the bagger had included a bottle of chocolate syrup. It was then that Fudgeteen decided his child needed feeding...
Sounds like a good diet to me! (No, I didn't do this to my own baby. Really.)
At school last week, the ever-vigilant Fudgeteen had spoken with his psych teacher about how best to protect his sweet baby in the cruel school:
So this afternoon, armed with a big-ass roll of duct tape, he began Operation Protect the Baby:
Here is the Fully Armored Baby, cuddled in Daddy's arms:
The next step was to put our grandchild into the onesie that Fudgegrandpa and I had indulged in (yes, it was on sale). Like I said, the whole concept of buying for a new baby in the family was irresistible, and we can give it to charity after the class moves on to some other unit like schizophrenia. Here, again, is our son holding his new little one:
The baby's first day was quite a busy one! So it was time for a nap, swaddled in a fuzzy blue Winnie the Pooh blanket in a cozy basket.
Tomorrow -- Baby goes to school! The adventure continues; stay tuned!
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