I was a child – maybe eight – and I was treated to a day trip to London. I remember having the best time, but it ended in panic because we were running late to catch our train home.  

My mum was pulling me through the London Underground at warp speed when I saw something on the floor – a ten-pound note. 

‘Mum, there’s a ten-pound note on the floor back there,’ I said. 

She stopped in her tracks, turned around, and, as composed as you like, knelt by my side and asked me to repeat myself. 

‘I just saw a ten-pound note.’ 

‘Show me,’ she said. 

Together, the two of us retraced our steps. 

It wasn’t a ten-pound note. It was a flyer for a gig or something. 

She wasn’t angry. Instead, she said, ‘Never mind,’ and we returned to travelling at warp speed. 

As a parent constantly battling the clock, I often recall that experience.  

Two things stick out. First, my mum shut everything out to focus on just me, on listening to what I had to say even though the timing couldn’t have been worse. 

And two, how one forgettable experience has somehow remained unforgettable, following me through my life to parenthood, where it regularly taps me on my shoulder to remind me of its importance. It's a lesson that took thirty years to sink in.  

Or perhaps it took me thirty years to gain the proper perspective and allow it to sink in. 

Think back to your childhood. Does anything stand out that is suddenly more relevant today now that you’re a parent than it was before?