24/03/2011 07:20 GMT | Updated 22/05/2015 06:12 BST

Achtung Baby Or Watch Out, It's A Rant!

At the risk of being controversial (who, me?), in my opinion, children shouldn't be having holes punched in any part of their bodies until they are old enough to vote.

Or be able to make an informed decision themselves.

Four-year-olds don't qualify on either count.

If you choose to pierce through the silky skin of your child you may be under the false assumption that it is your business and your business alone. But there you would be mistaken. Small children skipping round kindergarten showing off their, thankfully, not yet infected lobes (only a matter of time), throw off a barrage of awkward questions in the direction of the parents of their peers.

On the way home from kindergarten yesterday, Finje announced, with measured nonchalance, that Franke had earrings and therefore she quite fancied some herself. I, in my innocence assumed Franke to have been sporting some kind of clip on affairs (also unacceptable in the Suze make-it-up-as-you-go-along book of parenting rules) and pondered the best way to refuse. Finje allowed me little time to consider and not without a hint of frustration, informed me that Franke had real holes in her ears.

As I floundered under pressure, she continued to pile it on by adding, with worrying enthusiasm, that Franke's older sister even had an "ear ring" in her tongue! Too scared to ask how old Franke's sister was, I made some attempt to nip the conversation in the bud. Adopting the considered, mature, experienced mother stance, I told her the answer was no, it would remain no and no amount of lip-wobbling, pleading or Bambi-eyed woe is me-isms would change my mind.

It didn't go well. I could hear my mother's voice in my head, repeating that old chestnut about if God wanted you to have holes in your body.. blah...blah. Not being a believer myself, and never having mentioned the Big "G" I wasn't sure that would help matters or complicate them further.

We cycled home in silence. On our arrival we shrugged off mountains of fleecy, thermal accoutrements and I braced myself for a mother daughter "you will get your ears pieced over my cold, dead corpse" chat. Before I could get started Finje was jogging up stairs to play.

"Woah, hold on, I thought we should discuss......"

"It's okay mama, I don't want earrings anymore!"

Right then. Good. That's that. Fickle but good. Excellent.

"I think I'd like a Tyrannosaurus Rex."