Jan Levinson always knows what she wants, and better yet – she always gets it. She doesn't like losing.

But what five-year-old does?

So it's quite understandable that she gets very upset on a certain Wednesday morning. Her parents oversleep and drop her off to kindergarten an hour late. When she enters the playroom, all children are already busy playing, all girls equipped with dolls, blankets and toy strollers. It seems they're playing house and Jan skips joyfully to pick up a few toys and complete a little household of her own.

But to her surprise, all dolls are gone. There's plenty of stuffed elephants, there are multiple teddy bears, but there are no spare dolls.

She turns to the girl who's closest to her. It's Becky Richardson and she's just tucking her dolls under a bright pink blanket.

“There are no dolls,” Jan complains.

Becky just shrugs.

“I want one,” Jan sighs.

“Sorry,” Becky shrugs again. “You were late, so there are no left.”

“But you have five,” Jan points her finger at Becky's little family. “Everyone has a lot of them,” she looks around. It's true, every girls seems to be taking care of an unusual number of daughters today.

“Well, we weren't late, Jan,” Becky folds her plump arms. “We could take all the dolls we wanted. You could too, if you were on time.”

“But can't you give me one?” Jan asks. “You don't need so many!”

“Yes, I do,” Becky says stubbornly. “That's how we're playing today.”

“But then I can't play at all!”

Becky doesn't say a word and snatches her dolls from under the blanket, cradling them protectively in her arms, as if fearing that Jan is not beyond resorting to kidnapping. But Jan just stares at her friend, anger and helplessness rising in her young, unspoilt heart. Her cheeks redden slightly as she confronts Becky with her revenge.

“When I grow up,” she starts slowly, “I will have ten kids... no, I will have a hundred kids. They will be better than your stupid dolls and I won't let you play with any of them.”

“No one can have a hundred kids,” Becky protests. “That's what my mom said. It's impossible.”

“Maybe your mom can't, but I will,” Jan says, proudly holding her head up. “You just wait and see.”

“Oh God,” Jan groans. “I am never going to have children. Never – mark my words.”

“Oh really?” her mother asks, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly in a badly disguised smile. “Why is that?”

“Did we not just spend a day in hell?” Jan shakes her head in disbelief. “Having more than one child should be forbidden.”

It's a warm June evening and they're sitting on a terrace of their house, having just said to goodbye to Jan's aunt and her two sons and a daughter.

“Well, I think the visit was successful. I hope they had fun,” Mrs Levinson says.

“They did, absolutely. The oldest of my china dolls, not so much,” Jan points out with a grimace.

“You're seventeen, Jan. I think you can get over the loss of a china doll,” her mother smiles gently. “And they didn't mean to break it. It was an accident. They're kids, sometimes you just have to accept that.”

“Fine, I accept that. But I'm not going to have kids and you have to accept that too,” Jan says, trying to sound very controversial, a befits a seventeen-year-old.

“I understand that,” her mother replies, unmoved by Jan's declaration. “It's a personal decision.”

“Really?” Jan asks, not quite believing what she's hearing.

“Sure.”

“You're not bothered by the fact that you're not going to be a grandma?”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure your sister is not going to deprive me of this priviledge,” Mrs Levinson chuckles.

“Well, that's great. Sarah will have kids for you to gush over and I will concentrate on my career,” Jan states.

“What makes you think Sarah won't have a career of her own?” her mother asks. “Having kids and having a blossoming career are not necessarily mutually exclusive.”

“Well, I don't know, mom, women don't have it easy,” Jan shrugs. “You have to slave away, make sacrifices, to achieve something really significant, to be on the very top. And that's where I want to get, mom. To the top. The way I see it. there's no place for babies, diapers and formula milk on the top.”

Mrs Levinson smiles tenderly as she watches her young, beautiful daughter weave a net of elaborate plans for the future. Jan is intelligent and hard-working, she's the president of her class and her ambition knows no limits. Her mother has no doubt that Jan's future is bright, that she can achieve anything she wants. But she also knows that at heart, Jan is still a child and her vision of adulthood will change at least ten times in the next few years.

“Well,” Mrs Levinson starts, with a mischevious gleam in her eye. “The way I see it, my dear, there's room for at least two children on the top.” And when her daughter gives her a curious look, she adds: “You just have to hold one kid in one arm, and hold the second in the other. And that's not counting a baby carrier!”

Jan looks at her mother incredulously, before she starts laughing at her genius plan.

“Mom,” she says. “You're incorrigible. They should be paying you for pro-family propaganda.”

"Just tell me who 'they' are and I'll be picking up the paycheck in no time!"