At the tender age of 28, the prospect of children – once a tiny speck on the horizon – is now glooping its way towards me like The Blob, all demanding and sticky. Do I want them? There was a point at which I would have decidedly said no. The snot, shit, insomnia and life-long commitment seemed like an unappealing package. And yet, this past year, children have started to actually seem… sweet? I can almost imagine holding little hands, blowing little noses, and ...
