In 1906, a premature infant becomes Coney Island's most unusual attraction: displayed in a glass incubator like a science fair specimen, while gawkers pay to peer at the "modern miracle" of scientific infant care. When Marjorie Fielding finally comes home, her mother has transformed parenting into a laboratory experiment, feeding schedules measured in cubic centimeters, sleep plotted on a graph, every coo catalogued for future reference. Her father, skeptical of this "expert" advice, wages quiet guerrilla warfare against the scientific method: stealing the baby for unscheduled cuddles, sneaking forbidden warmth when Mother isn't looking. The comedy builds toward crisis when little Marjorie falls ill, and Mother faces an unbearable truth: the charts and formulas have no answer for a crying child who needs only to be held. Butler's sharp satire dissects the early 20th century's obsession with "scientific motherhood", a movement that told women to trust books over instincts, experts over love. Aperiod piece with surprising bite.
