I try not to judge other parents, I try my best – their plight is my plight, their weekly struggles to remain sentient in the soft play, their daily wrestles and nightly fights are my weekly etcs – but sometimes I am… tested.
I’m talking, of course, about the devotees of what has recently been described as “sad beige”. These are parents who, following current fashions, dress their children like small peasants in mournful shades of oat and camel, buy simple toys in “earthy” tones and decorate their bedrooms with such deafening taste and restraint that it’s clear the children are less likely to be playing with Lego here than whittling a bowl for mother to fill with her own milk.
