Crying Alien Baby

I babysat 3rd period today. No not my students (which often feels like I am babysitting), but one of those rubber pseudo-parenting dolls of which they force the girls to keep over night in an attempt at birth control. **Note: I have never seen a teenage boy carrying around these rubber monsters. Why is that?**

Cassie's math teacher said that she could not bring the doll to class, which seems counter productive to me as she needs to take care of the doll in order to pass another class, but who am I to judge? So she asked if I would watch the demon possessed creature whilst she went to math. She showed me very carefully how to hold the thing so that it's head wouldn't bounce backward or spin around like the exorcist. It comes with 4 keys, each one with a different purpose: burp, change diaper, feed, and give attention. As the thing begins to cry you have to stick the key into a slot in its back to solve its problem. Each key needs to be held in for a different amt of time from 20 seconds to 3 minutes in order to get the thing to stop wailing. (all this information is relayed to me by a very-late-for-math-class young lady). With that being said, she then leaves me to my slow and painful demise.

It starts crying immediately. I know that it registers how long it cries and knows if you shake the hell out of it. Cassie begged me not to kick it. Apparently that will cause her to fail. I also cannot let it cry for more than 2 minutes. (Aren't you supposed to let your kids cry themselves to sleep sometimes?)

I shoved keys in its crack until it shut up. Success! But I had to make copies. And grab some caffeine, and pee. Badly.

So I slung Baby Lucifer over my hip and headed down the hall thinking (foolishly) that it would be quiet for a while since it had just been fed/burped/shaken....

It screamed in the copy room.I had to put each key in twice until it would stop.It cried in the hallway, an ear piercing shriek. It waited to cry again until I had my hands full of hot coffee and a stack of 300 copies. I dropped the keys. I spilled my coffee (although not on baby) and scattered copies all over the hall. I did not drop the baby on the floor. (I think that counts as a failure for her as well).

The door to my left opens and out steps a rather irritated Cassie. "Really Miss W. I thought you were more responsible. Give me the keys."

She promptly shoves a key in devil baby, quieting its cries, gives me a disappointed look, glares at my coffee cup, and stomps back into class.

I am a failure at rubber-baby care. Although Satan Jr. sat quietly for the rest of the period, looking at me with his beady little eyes, I still feel like perhaps it's not the best idea of what parenting is. Most babies do not shut up with a quick key cure. And where are the young men toting diaper bags and babies with minds of their own? I think they should be held responsible too, and exposed to scary demon babies.

Before Cassie came to collect the rubber beast I lysol-ed its disgustingly dirty, H1N1 covered body. Do you think her health teacher will fail her for covering her kid with chemicals?