It was all going so well. Introductions had been made, pizza had been eaten, sixth-birthday presents had been handed over, and all was going swimmingly. And then, I went to the loo.

 

Having assumed all would be well in the two minutes it took me to do a child-free wee, I returned from the train station bathroom to see my son many metres above me, diving onto a down escalator. My boyfriend, meanwhile, was still bolting up the corresponding ascending stair, a station security guard in hot pursuit.

 

This was my now-partner Rich’s introduction to parenting a six-year-old boy with the energy of ten suns. And with hindsight, I’m not sure why I expected anything less…

 

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