‘So sorry, I’ll be with you in a moment, I’m just penning a tear-stained poem about the end of our breastfeeding journey, called: “Jasper, You’re Four Now”.’ She looks up to find Jasper with his fingers around a traumatized fluffy tail. ‘Oh, Jasper, I can’t have you picking that squirrel up by its tail. I know you’re feeling anxious about climate change, but throwing animals isn’t kind. Here, throw this instead,’ she says, offering him her iPhone to trash. She is so devoted to her mini tyrannical boss that she twitches if she hears the word ‘mummy’. Does not sleep. Does not breathe out of place. Suffers from a rare form of Stockholm syndrome called, ‘Mother’s love’.