So I’m off to see the baby nephew this weekend. There’s no doubt that he’s cute and gives me a great excuse to buy fabulous teeny tiny outfits from baby gap, but the truth is I’m not good with babies, and I’m not good with being asked about when I’m gonna have one. It’s not that I hate them or that I entirely rule out the possibility of having one of my own one day (I know I can’t control the clock) but it’s just that I can barely look after myself let alone a mini-me. Inevitably I wear the wrong clothes for the climate so how would I decide if the baby should be cuddled up or uncovered? My cooking repertoire consists of the most unsuitable baby food… curries, chillies and fish with lots of bones so starvation could definitely be on the cards for a sprog. I’m always leaving bags and umbrellas on trains, or forgetting my keys so what if I remembered my shopping list and my lippie but left my baby on the bus…would they take it to Lost Property for me to reclaim? I try to look enthusiastic when anyone passes me their precious bundle to hold. I smile and rock and might even manage a bit of smalltalk but more often than not their little bodies go all rigid, they stare at me with horror and then the screaming starts (always stopping and turning to smiles the second I pass them back). People say they love the way babies smell which I never really understand… I’m thinking there must be an aroma other than poo that I’m missing. As I tend to be slightly tense when I hold them it’s never long before my arms start to ache and droop and someone shouts ‘Watch it’s head!’.. It’s not that I hate them (sometimes they’re hilarious) but I’m just not keen on dribble in such vast quantities. This weekend I’ll do my bit.. coo and smile and have a bit of a cuddle and then I’ll make extra, doubly sure that I take that little round pill at bedtime for the foreseeable future at least...

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