(Please forgive me a vaguely sentimental entry. We’ll be back to our usual cynicism later I promise.)
Today was my stepdaughter’s eighteenth birthday. She was eight when I first met her. It’s been an interesting journey with only a very small number of bumps.
I never wanted to have children of my own and I don’t regret that decision at all, but having watched her grow from that child into the mature, confident, interesting (and, even better, interested) young woman that she is today (and having, to a small degree, influenced that process) I can certainly understand why people do it.
It’s a pleasure to know her.