Here’s something I remember from 20-odd years ago: lying on the carpet, bone weary, in front of a pack of cards laid in a messy grid. Opposite me, cross-legged, sits the middle one, aged three, blond hair standing on end. I turn over a card, revealing a picture of a triceratops. I turn over another card: a diplodocus. I let out a puff of exasperation – really, I want to swear – and return both cards to the face-down position.
The middle one turns over a card: a pterodactyl. Then another: also a pterodactyl. He takes both cards, adds them to his pile and goes again. Triceratops, and triceratops.
