Julie Jay: Is it necessary for parents to bring out their child’s inner Don Conroy?

"My ‘suggested feed’ is a litany of crafty mammies going above and beyond to make sure their child doesn’t have to suffer one nano-second of boredom."

I’ve never minded getting a hen-party invite as long as it doesn’t involve anything more than one night away from my own shower plug-hole. But these sorority events can make my blood run cold. My aversion isn’t the thought of the Mr and Mr Quiz (some things a mother-in-law should never know, such as whether or not her son has a hairy back; or if his fianceé’s breathing is his pet peeve), nor do I mind the random amalgamation of people who have gathered to celebrate a woman they may be related to, have lived with in college, or are currently embroiled in some sort of legal dispute with.

No, what causes me to lose sleep about these somewhat medieval celebrations is the prospect of ‘organised fun’. Life drawing (if I wanted to see a willy, I’d stay at home), cocktail making (I’m never making one at home for fear the shaking might wake the baby), or, worse yet, an obstacle course involving mud and ritual humiliation.