She regularly questions me about where she is going to live, who is going to drive her and her baby to the shops, and whether or not she can still have her princess night light when she is married. She even asked me: 'Will you sort out my baby's milk for me?'
She looks slightly horrified when I tell her that she will have to look after and feed her own baby, and maybe even drive herself to the shops.
Almost every afternoon, when she gets home from school, the only information that she will offer up, is which boy in her class has proposed to her that day.
With a very serious, slightly worried look on her little face, she will say: 'Dan says he is going to marry me.'
'Oh right' I say, with slight intrigue.
'What? Did you think I was going to marry Robert?' she says. 'Robert told me today that he HATES you because you are always buying hoovers.'
'Probably a good job that you aren't going to marry Robert then,' I tell her.
The names have been changed to protect the innocent