Thankfully all parents have the same skills as a magician who is trying to persuade you to pick the seven of diamonds. You may think it was your choice of card, but really it was the magicians.
The unicorn was chosen, my wallet sighed with relief and the rest of the visitors remained unaware of the mastery they had just witnessed.
It was the first time in ages I'd been to Chessell Pottery and we'd chosen the busiest day in months. The rain had reached knee deep proportions and everyone else had seemingly had the same idea.
Despite the crowds of amateur artists we found a seat in the large pottery painting barn and my daughter happily splodged away until her unicorn was complete. The couple next to us was taking it more seriously, meticulously decorating a plate and mug. At their current pace I guessed they had been there at least three days and were surviving on a lemon drizzle cake diet.
My daughter handed over her masterpiece with great pride and was instructed to return in three days when it would be glazed and ready to take away. Needless to say she reminded us regularly that we would need to return.
Besides the pottery there's also a nice cafe and a shop selling stuff at the posh end of the souvenir market. Don't come here looking for a 30p stick of rock and a nodding dog.
Three days later we returned and dropped the unicorn in the car park. It smashed into a thousand pieces and my daughter cried all the way home.
Actually that last bit didn't happen thankfully. I clutched the unicorn carefully and it now sits proudly next to her Alum Bay sand teddy bear, on her shelf reserved for lovingly created holiday tat.