"So how's it going for you guys?" Jimmy asked as he shouldered his doll and patted it awkwardly on the back. He'd promised Libby more effort, but he couldn't help feeling lost on this particular assignment.

"Probably better than you," Sheen answered. His doll was currently with Cindy. Carl had, for once, actually put his foot down and insisted Nick take the doll (well, in reality he had shouted "I need a break for once, okay?! It's my turn to take naps and watch my soap operas!")

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Oleander told me that Bolbi told him that Butch told him that Brittany told him that Nick told her that Miss Fowl told Arnie that Libby said you're not doing a very good job."

"Could you repeat that?" Jimmy gritted his teeth.

"Okay. Oleander told me that Bolbi told him-"

"Not that! The part about me not doing a good job! I am Jimmy Neutron. Do you know what that means?!"

"That you have a big head?" Sheen suggested.

"That your parents named you James but we all call you Jimmy and that your hair is all tall?" Carl chimed in.

"It means that I always get an A. This is a collaborative project. If Libby tells Miss Fowl I didn't pull my weight, I'll get a lower grade! Gentlemen, this will not stand. It's time to get paternal."

"I don't know, Jimmy," Carl looked worried. "I think I had that once, and it took a whole lot of medicine to get back to normal."

"Paternal just means 'father'."

"Oh. I don't think that's contagious."

"All right, son," Sheen was marching in front of his doll, pacing back and forth. The doll was propped up on the couch, the Ultra Lord mask back on as well as an Ultra Lord onesie. Sheen was quite proud he had managed to find the latter. "We've worked on your battle skills. You have watched enough Ultra Lord to understand what it means to be a hero. This assignment is almost done, and by the end we must prevail! You will defeat all of the other children. ...I'm not sure combat will actually determine grades, but we must be prepared!"

Cindy sat on the couch, occasionally looking up to roll her eyes at the scene in front of her. She was working on her side of the presentation. While the questionnaire and the chip inside the doll would determine a large portion of their grade, twenty percent of the final grade would be the oral.

"Have you even worked on your presentation?" She finally asked. She hadn't spoken much since she'd gotten to the Estevez's. Mostly she just worked to distract herself.

"Yep."

"Really?"

"Nope. Probably just gonna wing it."

"I get ten percent off of my grade if your part of the oral is not good. You need to work on it! If I get less than an A, I will kill you and not a judge in this world would convict me."

Sheen shrugged, then propped Eric back up. "It's okay, Eric's going to win the baby fight."

"That is not a thing!"

"Well, how else do we determine which parents did the best job of raising their baby? Besides, ours is the cutest."

While Cindy was touched by the sentiment, at her heart she was a realist. "It literally looks like every doll they handed out in class."

"Nope. This one has a slightly lighter shade of brown hair than the others."

Cindy looked closely and was more than a little surprised to see it was true. "How did you even notice that?"

"You guys say all my Ultra Lord figures look the same, but it's not true. For example, Ultra Lord when he was mind controlled by Robo Fiend was black with red trim. When he becomes the champion of the alien planet Doomicus he was black with gold trim."

"Okay, so you have a special talent for recognizing traits in dolls."

"THEY'RE NOT DOLLS, THEY'RE ACTION FIGURES!"

Cindy wondered momentarily if it was possible for her eyes to fall out from rolling them so often. "Whatever. We've got all of the questions done – even if we don't agree on some parts. The oral is the only part left to do."

"Yeah, but we're not supposed to work on that together. It's each of our opinions, right?"

The fact was, Cindy knew he was right. The problem, though, was she wanted to know what he'd thought of her in this assignment. She was more than a little scared it would be less than favorable. She hadn't expected him to be listening well enough to the assignment's description to realize he had no obligation to share his opinions with her before the fact.

I guess I'm just going to have to hope for the best, she though, resigned to the idea.

"Try it again," Libby had been mostly encouraging, but now her tone was getting sharper. She once again demonstrated taking the diaper off the baby and replacing it. "See? Not that hard. If you can build a robot like Goddard, this should be easy for you. It's not rocket science."

"Rocket science is a lot easier," Jimmy muttered under his breathe before attempting to remove the diaper. He couldn't get the sides open. In the corner, Goddard snickered and played some country song called "Mr. Mom". "Not helping, Goddard."

"It's velcro. Just pull the sides."

Jimmy got it off this time, shook the diaper out and then attempted to replace it.

"That's much better this time," Libby said kindly. "But -uh-each leg goes through a seperate hole."

"How is this so difficult for me? I can recite pi to 67888 places, but I can't put a diaper on right?!" They were in the Neutron's kitchen, and Libby took this opportunity for a snack break.

"You got any Flurp? It's gonna be a looong day." She checked the fridge and found the soda, which she places on the table. "Where do you keep the cups?" Jimmy pointed to the cupboard and she took out a cup for each of them, pouring the soda and pushing one at Jimmy. "We'll keep trying."

"But Oleander told Sheen that that Bolbi told him that Butch told him that Brittany told him that Nick told her that Miss Fowl told Arnie that you said I'm not doing a good job."

"Since when do I really talk to Arnie? That's just the rumor mill. Remember how much trouble that got me in when I listened to it when we were all on that news show? You're trying. I mean – who gets parenting right immediately?"

"Jim Jam! Libby! I just came in for pie," Hugh greeted the kids, then headed for the fridge to dig around. "Ah! Cranberry Grape. You kids want some?"

"No thanks."

"I'm good."

"Hey, dad?" Jimmy stood up. "How were you at being a dad when I was first born?"

"Well, Jimmy...well, let's see. I passed out on your mom when she gave birth to you. They actually ended up giving me an epidural, too!"

"Not that far back, dad. I mean when I came home."

"I lost you once in the super market. You were in the cart, and then you weren't," Hugh frowned. "One of the scariest days of my life, actually. Turned out you were still in the cart, you just had stood up and flipped into the other part of the cart. Oh, and you cried a lot when I held you. But you let me tell you all about ducks."

"So you weren't a perfect parent right off the bat?"

Hugh chuckled before taking a large bite of pie. "I'm probably not perfect now, Jimmy. Like last week I blamed you for that lamp I broke. Trying to make one of the ducks fly – but you know, it is winter, they're supposed to fly south."

"Mr. Neutron," Libby put in, "We live in Texas. That's pretty far south."

"That was you?!" Jimmy looked outraged. "Mom took away my jet pack for a week for that!"

"Uh-oh, look at the time, I gotta go...somewhere else! Have fun with your project, kids!"