I'd rather stick needles in my eyes than sing in front of an audience. And I'm sure audiences would rather stick needles in their eyes than listen to me.

My husband, who is actually not bad on the guitar, could also never be persuaded to give a public performance.

Our four-year-old, however, appears to be a Britney Spears in the making.

Eve made her stage debut this week at a street party in Brighton, giving a touching rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

Actually, I didn't witness it as I had to disappear just before the children's talent contest began to give Eve's baby brother a feed. And my husband didn't see it because he was at work.

But our friends Jake and Rafia, who had invited us along to the Reigate Road bash, were there during her moment of glory.

"She was a star," said Rafia. "She had the audience spellbound. It nearly brought a tear to my eye."

"Yep," agreed Jake. "What a girl. But the amazing thing is that she didn't smile once. She was more deadpan than Jack Dee."

Of course, I was deeply disappointed I'd missed her performance but baby Max is going through a growth spurt and needs feeding every 20 minutes.

If I'd tried to make him wait a little longer his wailing would have drowned out all the wannabes.

I also have to confess the prospect of Eve taking part in the show filled me with dread and brought back memories of my own stage terror.

Even now, 30 years after I played the part of Mary in the school nativity, I break into a cold sweat at the thought of having to say my one line: "Oh Joseph, I'm so tired." I didn't want her to face the same fears.

But either Eve hasn't inherited the nervousness gene or it has yet to be triggered. For as soon as it was announced a talent contest was to take place, she casually suggested she wanted to perform Twinkle Twinkle.

She sings it at least eight times a day anyway as she believes it pacifies Max during nappy-changing traumas (he's only three weeks old and hasn't yet developed a musical taste).

"Are you absolutely sure?" I'd said to her. "Won't you be frightened standing up there in front of all these people?"

She gave me a bemused look as if I'd suggested she didn't like chocolate buttons or Fizz in the Tweenies. "Why would I be frightened?" she said.

Thankfully, before my anxiety could rub off on Eve, sensible Rafia stepped in and took Eve to join the queue of contestants.

Then Max began kicking off and I was grateful to have a valid excuse to go somewhere else for a half an hour.

When I returned, Eve was waving around her prize colouring book and sucking on her prize lolly.

"Wow!" I said. "Did you win?"

"They were all winners," said Jake. "Although I think Eve was robbed of the title of ultimate winner. She and a boy who did a Michael Jackson impersonation were by far the best."

Later I rang my husband to give him the news and he was as astounded by Eve's bravado as I had been.

"That's brilliant," he said. "But where does she get it? You and I wouldn't do it unless we were being held at gunpoint."

"Perhaps our confidence-building approach to parenthood is finally working," I said.

"Now all we have to do is find the confidence in ourselves to be able to watch our children perform."