Nobody tells you how much parenting you’ll do on stairs. (And, me, scared of heights.) From tying shoelaces, to exploring Souter Lighthouse, to throwing socks at one another.
Now I sit on the stairs outside your room, waiting for the WhatsApp message that’ll say you’re not coming over this weekend.
James Whitman writes from Sunderland. There are twenty-six stairs in his home, and he has parented on every single one of them.
