Last month a hoohah (technical term) was made when the MP Stella Creasy brought her baby to vote in the House of Commons. As someone who feels grateful I can keep my kids and my work as separate as possible (I cherish working in an office), my feminist outrage antenae flickered, but moved on.
But it’s one of those things that has sat in my head like the pile of dirty laundry in my son’s bedroom — niggling away at me whilst I’ve refused to address it.
