08/10/2010 13:32 BST | Updated 22/05/2015 06:12 BST

Achtung Baby Or Come Back Germaine Greer All Is Forgiven

Germaine Greer I am not but I do believe that women should have equal rights in the work place and everywhere else for that matter. I have worked since my first job at the age of 15. I've enjoyed good wages, struggled on poor wag es and revelled in an above average salary. I have always paid my way and have never asked for a penny from anyone.

Now, I'm a mum. I'm always here for Finje because I have the luxury of working from home as and when I please. This usually means when she is tucked away in bed, I've made myself a strong coffee and planted myself on the sofa. Once I have persuaded Ripley the Merciless (cat) that she should shove over and make way for the laptop I'm ready to roll.

Finje, in the Land of Nod, sees nothing of this.

Could this be the reason for her comment over lunch which very nearly resulted in my Death by Macaroni Cheese?

Finje's current obsession is knights in shining armour. She had been badgering me for sometime to buy her a knight outfit so I did honourable thing and knocked one up Blue Peter style. Expecting disappointment that she hadn't the spiffing silver plastic combo worn by some kid in kindergarten, I was pleasantly surprised at her positive reaction to my frankly, pathetic grapplings with double sided sticky tape and aluminium foil.

Once kitted out, she threw herself with Oscar winning gusto into her role. The scene was both sweet and disturbing. Whilst it pleases me that she demonstrates no desire to don anything pink or lilac, her riding around on an imaginary horse (cute) stick in hand announcing her intention to decapitate her challengers (concerning) had me wondering whether stereotypical little girl behaviour might not be preferable after all.

As we tucked into lunchtime victuals (knights always eat their greens!) she hit me with this:

"So mama, I am a brave knight and you are the woman who stays in the castle kitchen and makes my food!"

After having recovered sufficiently from noodle inhalation, my suggestion that I might want to ride a horse and wear a helmet (I omitted the fighting) was dismissed with a cursory flick of the hand and a rather disconcerting herruph. Apparently the pure absurdity of my request didn't merit any other response.

I have created a monster!

Are stay at home mums sending out the wrong messages to their children?