I seem to spend a disproportionate amount of time worrying. I know it is a parent's right - I mean, when a warm, slippery, wailing bundle has been placed into your arms fresh from your womb it's a pretty powerful way to kick-start your protective instinct - but I hadn't realised until very recently quite how much energy I was investing in it.
Get a group of parents together and it won't take long for the worries to come out - whether it's about friendships, schooling or their ability to tie their laces. We joke that as children grow older 'the challenges change' and the wild panic caused by attempting to find a toilet when your potty-training toddler "wants poo-poo" will be something you miss when you're faced instead by door slamming and "I hate you!". And you'll miss it all the more when your daughter tells you she wants her boyfriend to stay the night (and then slams the door and tells you she hates you when you say no).
It had left this latent worry in the back of my mind, concern for what's to come and how to handle it, even dipping into a book about