A baby-blogosfera descrita antes de tempo

Young women met in each other's houses, taking their babies and small children. It was expected that I should be friends with the wives of Frank's colleagues. There was a group of ten or so women. (...) One of the group has a new baby, and there she is with the little thing, its head helpless on her shoulder. Suddenly your own toddler looks enormous, even gross. You remember the sweet intimacy with a new baby. You might have said "I'm not going to have another baby yet - or perhaps not ever," but suddenly, holding the infant, you are "broody". "Oh, have a heart, I´m getting broody" - and you hastily hand the dangerous creature back to its mother who seems the most enviable person in the world, although she is misshapen from the birth and breast feeding. But it is too late. The hormones have received a jolt and you're off. Soon you will be announcing at a morning tea, "I'm pregnant!", "You're not! But you said... Oh, I'm jealous. When?".

Só que as nossas casas agora são virtuais e os chás são mais chats. Mas o efeito é parecido.

Doris Lessing, Under my skin, volume 1 da sua autobiografia. Gosto cada vez mais dela.