Watching my daughter grow up, I am amazed at the differences between my childhood games and hers.
For instance, when I was her age my favourite thing in the world was to play with my dolls, and I remember the great excitement I had when I discovered a brand new baby doll that looked just like the real thing – no hair and all.
But in spite of my influence, my daughter isn’t really into playing “mums and dads” and would much rather buy a Littlest Pet or My Little Pony than anything that requires “looking after.”
The same goes with the kind of games she plays with her friends.
When I was nine, my friends and I would be playing with my Sindy dolls; designing clothes for them and making shops and houses.
If my daughter and her friends play with Barbie dolls, the game will most likely revolve around wrestling matches, zombie attacks and throwing them at each other.
When I see them playing this way, my 10-year- old self wants to scream and gather up the dolls for safe-keeping, but instead I just look on in amazement and ask them to keep the noise down.
Yesterday my daughter had a friend over and when I walked into the bedroom there they were, busy playing zombies while hanging a 3ft doll from a fluffy snake and swinging it from side to side off the bed.
When I walked in, they both looked over and asked what I wanted, to which I replied, “Why do you have to play zombies all the time?
“When I was your age I was playing doll’s tea parties, and schools.”
They both looked at me in utter astonishment as if I’d just told them to go sky-diving off a cliff, and after assuring me that I was at best old fashioned, and at worst a fully-fledged elderly woman, they went back to their game of zombies, while I got back to my ear-plugs...