Wellington's cafes are full of pre-schoolers.

It's a natural progression; there I was, used to going to cafes a lot and suddenly struck pregnant. Even after I'd finished the phase of being only able to stomach banana smoothies and not being able to stomach making them I was hungry, thirsty, and desparate for a place with a loo and somewhere to sit down on a chair that wasn't not too low or too hard; of course I popped into a cafe every shop or two during the nesting phase. Then there was a teeny tiny baby, certainly no more obtrusive than the pregnant stomach had been, and I was, if anything hungrier and thirstier, and somewhere to sit down was even more essential as we accustomed ourselves to being a breast-feeding pair.

The two of us were used to going to cafes together, and what could have been more natural than to keep on doing so once I could buy the baby a banana to eat in a companiable way as I enjoyed my moist orange cakes and caramel flans. Then she started drinking the odd bit of cow's as well as human's milk and her aunt bought her a Fluffy along with her cousins, it was like a rite of adulthood, she took it so seriously.