Biological Clock or Just Society Getting on My Nerves?

I am only 28. Technically, 28 going on 29 since I’ve past the mid-way point of my birthday year – otherwise known as the Bonnie Calendar (similar to the Lunar and Solar calendars, but only slightly more important.) And as a woman in her so called prime, or perhaps even shy of it, mucking up my fun by child has remained nothing more than a far off, inane idea; an activity more suited to thirty something’s, the rich and refrigerated, or my parents luckier friends kids. But recently, for some bizarre reason, babies – even children for that matter – have become increasingly palatable, to the point where I’m actually considering some for myself. Babies feet are suddenly munchable (I’m not kidding on this one: the other day while on the bus, I saw some baby feet dangling from whatever sack their parent was lugging them around in and was this close to being arrested); their cooing is almost sweet to the ear; I even have delusions of looking cute while pregnant. So is this my proverbial “biological clock” kicking in, or is it just that society finally got to me, its barrage of “biological clock” like ideas taking their toll on my subconscious, convincing me that I’m a pre-pregnant Timex? Who really knows? I guess all I can do is wait, see and pray that my mother doesn’t really follow my career and read this blog.