Dear Agony Uncle,

I’ve hit the age where all of my friends are starting to have babies. As a (still) single girl, I’m tired of the endless Facebook status updates about their children’s sleeping patterns and teething troubles. Is it rude to tell them that I don’t care and that they should spare me the detail?

Bored with Babies, Shoreditch

Dear Bored with Babies,

Ah, the good old-fashioned pressure further compounded by modern-day technology. It’s bad enough to have one’s relatives barking in one’s ear about prospective grandchildren, not least when our own peers hit that communal wave of procreation to make us feel insignificant and reproductively-challenged via—heaven forbid—Facebook. It’s as if something’s in the water—an overly fertile amoeba—that ferrets into our friends’ ovaries and makes them spawn like tree ferns, casting offspring asunder; bottled at the source in the State of Utah.

Alas, your friends have entered the next stage of their lives where late-night jaunts and disco pashes are no longer de rigeur, replaced by a demanding little person who screams and gyrates, but not in the good way. Everything that might have mattered once before has now taken a baby seat, their priorities lying solely with the nurture of their infant.

Cut your friends some slack—it’s not easy being a new parent, particularly on three hours’ sleep. If their perpetual dialogue offends you so, use the ‘Hide’ button in your Facebook feed and promptly eradicate their diatribe like a soiled Pampers. And remember: just because you haven’t given birth, doesn’t mean you can’t bang on about your new ‘babies’. Prada heels or a Vivienne Westwood tote are much sexier than news of sleepless nights and baby spit.

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