I’m having trouble writing this since I’m bouncing a baby on my right knee as I try and type. I haven’t had to do this in about 14 years but, like riding the proverbial bike, it comes back to you pretty easily. This baby is simpler than most; though he cries every 90 minutes or so, you don’t have to feed or rock him. You just take a little key and stick it in his back. Then dandle him on your knee for a while.

My daughter is taking care of an electronic baby for extra credit in her health class. The electronic-baby gag was developed for kids in inner city schools years ago, as a way of showing girls who might be thinking of getting pregnant (or who might be thinking that getting pregnant wouldn’t be so bad) the harsh realities of baby care. As any parent knows, taking care of a real live infant is not so simple as putting the key into the slot. And much more rewarding.

Because Aidan, as he had been named pre-assignment, is about as realistic as one of those surrogate women you can buy in porn shops (or so I’ve heard!). He’s about the right dimensions of a healthy seven-to-nine month old, but aside from crying like clockwork, doesn’t do much.

“Has he made his happy coo?” my daughter asked me, getting out of the shower. Not yet, I replied. As parents of real children know, the happy coo, accompanied by the adoring smile, is what keeps kids from being catapulted out the window by sleep-deprived parents.

I was initially skeptical of this assignment. After all, my daughter’s expensive NY school is hardly the place where kids are sitting around harboring “Ms. Jackson” fantasies about the good life of being a grandmother at 35. Or so I thought. Then my daughter told me about an exchange she had with one of her friends who was also doing the baby thing. For Franny, the experience has confirmed her belief that having a baby — certainly anytime soon — is not an option. But her friend got all dewy-eyed and claimed that any woman who didn’t have one was unfulfilled, and that getting up every 90 minutes was the meaning of life.

In a North Korean prison camp maybe. I was just happy to hand it back to her so she can take Aidan to school on the subway, getting dirty looks from people (because she’s Latina, she insists) though one fellow did offer her his seat. Before they split I heard Aidan make the happy coo. A small victory for life, if not modern technology.