August Exclusive - Mr Fluffles - Part 2

Robert had chosen the first few minutes to speak to Ashley, when the children are being dropped off. After parents leave their precious offspring at Mr. Fluffles, there’s a relatively quiet period in the baby room when Robert feels at his mental best. Free from his girlfriend’s attentions, Robert can gather his thoughts. Compared to later in the day, after free play and exploration, after the sensory table, and in particular after music and movement. After all of that, Robert tends to feel less clear. In fact, if he’s completely honest, by that point Robert is pretty confused. Confused enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone the whole truth, not without a lot of work.

“Bobby likes his cuddles. What a cuddly baby! Tummy’s all full, now you can have a lovely nap.”

Then there’s the afternoon, with stroller walks, and then tummy time, and then finger plays. After all of that, it’s free time until Anne arrives to pick him up. By that point, with all the activities and all of the diaper changing, feeding, naps and cuddles in between, Robert is unlikely to be able to string a coherent sentence together. When he sees Anne, when she picks him up, Robert’s smile is genuine.

“There’s Mommy! What a happy baby! Oh look, he missed you!”

It’s only later, after the car-ride home, when Robert starts to remember. That Anne isn’t really his mother. That his girlfriend did this to him; regressed him back to infancy and won’t even admit it. That’s when Robert reminds himself, makes a mental note (missing the task reminder app on his smart phone, missing the luxury of a pen and paper) to ask for help the next day.

But who, exactly, should he approach? he hadn’t identified anyone he could trust.

“Bobby’s such a good baby,” the workers tell Anne, using the diminutive she registered him with. Meaning he doesn’t fuss or cry.

“Bobby’s good as gold,” they declare, meaning he doesn’t fidget, doesn’t crawl away and into trouble.

“Bobby’s such a good sleeper,” they tell her. Because it’s easier to just pretend to be asleep than to act like the other babies. To drool and to babble, to want to put everything in their mouths, to play Peek-a-Boo. And to crawl, to explore and learn. As if the yellow teddy bear decorating the front window of the daycare signifies a place of important business, with the clients dressed for success in their diapers and pajamas.

Robert doesn’t want to do any of those things, of course. Because he’s not a real baby. But also, because he is sure that the more he learns about being a baby, the more he forgets about his old life. Which is what Anne wants, no doubt. Which is why she treats him at home like a real baby, why she never says a word about what happened. It’s as if she is sure that by pretending to truly be his mother, she can make it real.

“Bobby’s a good baby.” That’s the report on Robert. But it’s clear that this isn’t a glowing review. Robert can hear it in their tone, the looks they give Anne. And Anne gets the message, holding him stiffly against her chest even as she gushes, “Lucky Mommy!”

Yesterday, Anne asked the manager, “Does it normally take this long?” Robert could feel the familiar tension in her arms, and he watched the manager purse her lips, as if they all knew that this wasn’t going according to plan.

The daycare manager is not someone called Mr. Fluffles. Instead, it’s a plump, red-haired woman with abundant cheer called Ms. Donna. She lowered her voice. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. And while it probably wouldn’t have looked to others like she was trying to cover Robert’s ears, she pretty much was, cupping the sides of his head with her hands just long enough to say something to Anne.

Robert had stared at the woman’s lips, and he was able to make out two words that made his already unreliable bladder turn to water.

Secret weapon.