Miss Two (and three-quarters) has a new hobby. Pole dancing. When I found her skipping merrily around the cat-scratching pole, naked, I couldn't resist reaching for the camera and taking a little video clip.
Great footage for her 21st, I chuckled. Then filed it away and thought nothing more of it.
Until,
last week, in the supermarket, she straddled the metal pole at the end of the checkout and started her dance routine (this time, thankfully, fully clothed).
"A pole dancer," a kindly gentleman chortled as he walked past.
The teenage girl behind the till blushed, unsure whether it was appropriate to laugh or not.
"Oh, it's her latest thing," I said, cool as a cucumber, but secretly dreading what might come next.
And, sure enough, she started sliding up and down it like a seasoned professional.
Glad to be in the "10 items or less" aisle, I grabbed my groceries and made a dash for it, hoping that my reusable shopping bag made some sort of statement - that I am the sort of respectable citizen that cares for the environment and does not let my children watch X-rated television.
But I didn't have the same armour to shield me when later that day I was standing in a lengthy queue at the bank.
To the other customers, the shiny chrome bollards were there to direct them in the right direction, much like herding cattle.
But to Miss Two, they were an invitation to perform.
Like metal to a magnet, she glued herself to the one closest to me (leaving no doubt as to whose daughter she was), and wrapped her legs around it.
All that was missing was dim lighting and a smoky haze.
With nothing but a deposit slip to hide behind, I did my best to ignore her antics, lest any attention spurred her on.
It made no difference.
She burst into song and started skipping around the bollard, in a style that was, to my great relief, more maypole than strip club.
And just as she threatened to bring the bollards down like a row of dominos, I made it to the front of the queue.
"How are you today?" the teller asked.
"Good thanks," I replied in chipper Kiwi fashion, feeling somewhat ashen.
I had glimpsed the future and it terrified me.
