I’m in our spare room, hiding from the children. My own children.
I can hear them having a riotous bath just one room away – with their dad’s supervision by the way, no need to phone social services – but I’ve no desire to join them. And unfortunately, this kind of sketchy maternal behaviour has become increasingly necessary since March.
The lockdown period has baked into both of my kids an anxious determination to have me in their eyeline at all times. It’s sweet, yes, and totally understandable, but also quite… exhausting.
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