Girl Talk - Column

I've always found children rather delicious.
Their skin is soft, their smiles are easy and uncomplicated and their passion for ice cream usually matches mine. What's not to like?
Of course, it has always helped that as auntie, photographer, friend and babysitter, these angelic cherubs have always belonged to someone else.
The instant the nappy is filled, the smiles turn to screams and the vintage china is flung across the kitchen, the children have always been handed back.
Quickly.
This week the arrival of a young family from Christchurch to my home has changed all that. The two little blonde girls, aged 4 and 15 months, struck a direct hit to my heart with their blonde curls, big eyes and an ability to bond and adore in a disarmingly rapid way.
But a Trojan horse can come in many guises and after a fabulous afternoon playing on the beach, sharing stories about ponies and generally falling in love, night began to close in on us.
The bright sun slid behind a dark cloud and then below the horizon all together. In the shadowy darkness that followed, two darling little girls were swapped as if by body snatchers and in their place appeared mini monsters that left anything seen on Alien vs Predator languishing in the shadows.
As the night wore on and whimpers turned to throaty bellows, I watched and listened in terrified awe as Mum made her way back and forth to the bedrooms, returning each time looking a little more exhausted, stressed and dishevelled.
Leaving their broken home in Christchurch was a tragedy, but this was a living nightmare, and one set to play on repeat every night for several years to come.
Worse still... this scene of utter bedlam was playing on repeat right across the country and in fact the world, as weary parents battled the bedtime demons.
As I retreated to the relative peace of my own bedroom, I thought to myself that if this was parenting, I needed sterilising. Fast.
Back in the halcyon days as a newlywed 20-something, I had lofty dreams of producing dozens of children who would skip happily together through long grass before putting themselves to bed swiftly and without sound.
Now, thanks to the arrival of three boisterous nephews and a plethora of babies belonging to various friends, the Sound of Music vision of raising a family isn't just dented, it is destroyed.
Whenever I express these thoughts to mums and dads around me, I am bombarded with proclamations about how it's all worth it when they're your own. But the dark circles under their eyes and the slightly unhinged and over-zealous lilt to their voices as they say it makes me question that. You can't help wondering if it's just a little bit like Amway or Jehovah's Witness, where those on the inside just can't resist dragging every other unlikely sod down with them.
Though I have to concede my heart was melted from its icy throes when Little Miss Four (an acquaintance of only a few hours) came sprinting into my bedroom and poked her little bare bum right in my face that I might better see the mosquito bite that had kept her (and greater Napier) awake for most of the night.
The gesture was so naive and spontaneous that I couldn't help but adore her again and come story-time that night when we lay snuggled in her bed, she knew she had me right where she wanted ... which was, specifically, in a front-row seat for The Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Part Two.