Miss Seven, standing in the doorway to the church hall, held some cute little bagged sugar cookies under her chin. They were decorated in pastel coloured fondant, stamped with "LOVE", and tied up with curly ribbons - gifts for Mothers Day. She whispered to me cautiously, "Are you a mother?" "No," I answered, hoping my tone had enough lightness to hide any of my own residual regret, but also to protect her from embarrassment at asking the question. She should be allowed to ask