Darwin Award nominee

Never say never, and I say no such thing. But I feel that parenthood is not for me. Most days I am more baffled by this ... knowing, than anyone else with whom I've shared it. Other days are like today.

[Relax. Not about to propound my theory that one inevitably becomes one's parent(s) including, or perhaps especially, in insidious ways.]

It started with our Saturday morning ritual: I crawl out of bed after some 10 minutes of N's pleading (which incorporated escalating violence); decadent toasted cheese sandwiches are made and devoured; some provocative conversation is had (I wanna be a thief when I grow up. / You do realise that you'll have to work nights? / That's OK, dad does too. / What do you need more than 1 DVD player or fridge for anyway? / Duh, I'll only take money. / ...); Chn exercises set by mummy (for N, not me) are rushed through.

As soon as mum got back from line dancing, we made our escape, glad that she brought visitor and therefore couldn't inspect abovementioned rush job right away.

Music is discussed often while we're on the road. N is interested in whatever I put on - though I do leave Eminem and such like at home when out with her. We try to work out what instruments are used in a song. She opines about everything from intros (dislikes lack of), to vocals ('she breathes so much'), to lyrics (doesn't get cannonball, wouldn't want a secret life, agrees that people just ain't no good).

First stop Scitech & Horizon Planetarium. 2 years since our last visit, so practically a novel experience for her, I'd imagine. Children are so in touch with their emotions, it's enviable. If they're happy, they shout it at you, tackle and kiss you. If they're not, there's no mistaking that either. (Methinks I know where I get my debilitating bluntness from.) Not 1 complaint in 4 hours, which is something.

Next, hung out at Western Power Parkland a bit, until N spotted drunken picnickers and asked to leave. (It would appear that 2004 NYE incident scarred her for life.) So up we went to the top of KP to watch the sun go down and the city light up.

Because a) we were hungry and b) Yes missed N, we detoured to 'the Sunflower' for takeaway. Duck and squid made their way to my bedroom 30 minutes later, in front of The Princess Diaries, at the mercy of 3 content yet ravenous little girls.

Where was I going with this ... Oh right. If pressed I could proffer a smorgasbord of explanations for my voluntary withdrawal from the gene pool (fear of failure, selfishness, philanthropy, you name it). But none as at once nonsensical and natural (to me, at least) as this: I have experienced motherhood, everything except the 'Push!' and the breastfeeding (which aren't prerequisites these days anyway), i.e. close enough to the real deal. I feel neither able nor willing to give it another go - not because the 'trial run' was traumatic, but because it was - is - so darn magical.