I was beginning to think my child saw me as a screeching psycho. Loopy, animated, vocal, loud, but never serene. Then one day at age 21 months when he was paging through the Elle fashion supplement (his
creative flair coming through), he alighted on a statuesque model in over-sized sunglasses. He instantly beamed up at his dad, pointed to the pouting babe and said, ‘Mummy!’

My first instinct is to think cynically of the genetic coding in males to be sycophants. But I had only to look at that shimmering smile and cherubic locks and think how beautiful it must be to perceive things
from such naiveté. To double-check my first instincts were indeed incorrect, I allowed a further thumbing of the glossy rag only to discover the identical reaction on reaching the page with, who is now termed, ‘my twin’.