Not long ago, a fire started close to my area. It moved fast, and through news reports, we watched it snake its way toward our sleepy, suburban neighbourhood. By evening, there were mandatory evacuations about 1km away from us.
I used to hate kids. Now that I have two of them, I’m OK admitting that. In my 20s, I went around swearing I would never spawn — instead, I’d travel the world wild and free without ever having to change a nappy, listen to Barney songs, or pick up half-chewed Oreos from the floor.