As part of my research for Baby Steps, I rented a robot baby for a week. I wanted to see how I'd be able to handle a baby that needed to be fed, changed and that cried day and night. Would I want to poke holes in the condoms or would I be driven to drink all the Draino? I wasn't sure.

Dave, my husband, insisted that we call him Chucky (after the serial-killing red-haired doll), because obviously, if you peek at the above picture, he looked like he was going to murder us. I won't spoil the fun and tell you how the week with Chucky actually went, but I'll just say that if he was a real baby, I'd probably be in jail right now.


Chucky and I after the fourth all-nighter...starting to lose my shit.