The dolls remain aggrieved. Yesterday, Meryl broke her headset in anger. Beth vomited. Only Linda completed the full evaluation.
Emmanuelle’s new word is blue. Also, cheek, as in, I want a kiss. After Frida kisses one cheek, Emmanuelle points to the other.
They’re given time for freestyle hugs, a transition before they begin the next unit. Frida covers her eyes and leads Emmanuelle through a few rounds of peek-a-boo. They sing the ABC song. Frida sings “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” explains that the songs have the same tune.
Emmanuelle pronounces twinkle as winkle. She waves her hands to approximate stars, following Frida’s lead.
As they sing, Frida realizes that Emmanuelle has never seen stars. Harriet probably hasn’t either. Not yet. Frida had noticed that during her first nights here. That they were far enough from the city to see stars. Constellations.
“I’m sorry I fell yesterday. You felt scared, didn’t you?”
Emmanuelle nods.
Frida slipped a few yards short of the finish line. She is a bad mother for falling. She is a bad mother for swearing. She is a bad mother for finishing third, for missing another month of phone privileges.
“Do you know why Mommy had to do all that running?”
“Test.”
“And why do the mommies have tests?”
“Learn.” Emmanuelle pronounces the r and n with extra syllables, adds an ah at the end.
“Learn-ah,” she repeats. She stands and kisses Frida on the forehead, placing her hands on either side of Frida’s face.
She speaks slowly. “I know it’s hard,” Emmanuelle says. “I will help you.”
* * *
Their classroom has been reconfigured with four mothering stations, each with a circular multicolor braided area rug. They receive a canvas bag containing half a dozen toys. It is the first day of Unit 4: Fundamentals of Play.
The dolls can have one toy, not all the toys, Ms. Khoury instructs.
The mothers will help the dolls make choices. Ms. Khoury demonstrates with Linda’s doll. After she scoops up all six toys in her grabby hands, Ms. Khoury says, “Sweetie, that’s too many.” She gets down on the floor and speaks to the doll at eye level. “I notice you telling me that you want many things right now, but right now, we’re only playing with one toy.”
Ms. Khoury holds up a finger for emphasis. The doll continues to hoard all six. Ms. Khoury begins teaching her to sort, to determine her preferences. Which toy is calling to her? What does she need right now? Which toy will meet those needs?
In comparison, the rules for previous units almost made sense. The doll was crying, and her mother comforted her. The doll was sick, and her mother helped her get well. But there’s no good reason, Frida knows, why the dolls can only play with one toy at a time.
* * *
The hardest part is staying cheerful and amazed. Speaking only in exclamations. Generating stories on the fly. Resisting boredom. Playing is harder than running. There’s no numbered sequence of steps, no specific play protocol. Play requires creativity. Each mother must tap into her inner child.
Model the behavior you hope to achieve, the instructors say.
Frida and Roxanne now process every night after lights-out. Frida tells Roxanne that she grew up watching soap operas with her grandmother. There was no sitting and playing and setting a timer. She admits that she used to make out with her dolls, which Roxanne thinks is deeply weird. They list the toys they’ll buy for Harriet and Isaac in November, reminisce about favorite toys from childhood. Roxanne made outfits for her Barbies using tissue. Ball gowns made of tissue and tape. She’s going to let Isaac play with Barbies when he’s older, wants him to develop his feminine side. She’ll take him to dance classes. He’ll learn to play the cello.
Back in the classroom, it takes Frida and Emmanuelle many days to deliver fifteen minutes of focused play with a single toy. Frida takes shortcuts. She promises Emmanuelle kisses if she cooperates.
“See how your friends are playing nicely? Don’t you want to be nice like them?”
Ms. Khoury criticizes this approach. Frida isn’t allowed to shame the doll into behaving. Shaming the child isn’t loving.
“Maybe that worked in the cultures you and I grew up in, but this is America,” Ms. Khoury says. An American mother should inspire feelings of hope, not regret.
* * *
In the gymnasium, there are twenty stations enclosed by black fabric partitions, each with a table and chair, a monitor, and a gray machine on wheels from which wires dangle. Frida looks into the camera above the screen. She expected an MRI machine or needles, a helmet, something powerful and futuristic. She closes her eyes as one of the women in pink lab coats swabs her face with an astringent-soaked cotton pad and tapes sensors to her forehead, brow, temples, cheeks, and neck. She unbuttons her uniform and allows the woman to tape a sensor to her heart.