I was going to be such a cool parent. I was going to let them wear, be-friend, listen to and even (when they're all big and spotty) smoke what they like. I was going to be one hip mama.
Then I had children.
Now I'm some Amish matron, wide-eyed with shock and horror by anything from kids with mobiles to tots with earings. I bore myself sometimes.
The latest is Rosie's (my 5 year old baby) new founded adoration for Justin Bieber, with whom her friends at school have been telling her all about, showing photos and most depressingly teaching her the words of his songs.
I'm not ready for this! Surely the likes of Bieber are for tweens with no taste - OK tweens - to swoon over, like they have done over their popstars for generations. But not my five year old girlie. She still sucks her fingers, has all her baby teeth and hides behind my skirt, well jeans, when venturing to new territory. And frankly, I'm beginning to wish she'd stay there if this is the reward we get for letting her out of our watching eyes.
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