I remember this moment of sweet sisterhood in the bath. It was near the end of a run of sick-days for the eldest, and I was really ready for her to go back to school. I’d had a good whinge about it earlier in the day, cultivating discontent as I compared my reality with what I had hoped for (happy not-snotty children, patient AND productive mama, ideal mothering AND ideal working, tidy stylish house, blah blah blah). But in the early afternoon, as they played in the bath together, I was struck by the thought: One day I’m going to look back and think “those were the happiest days of my life”.

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