I remember being a bit ill quite often as a kid. Well, sometimes actually ill, often of the total hypochondriac school, I was "ill". It probably didn’t help that allergies and intolerances weren’t well understood in that day and in that place, so I spent most of my formative years experiencing discomfort from dust allergies and lactose intolerance (my father used to tell me off for sniffing constantly).

However, I only remember being properly ill a few times. High fevers, properly miserably ill, needing constant brow-mopping, syrup-swallowing care. How did my parents cope?

Em was recently teething and had a couple of days of feverishness, and my panic mode went from 0-60. I started being paranoid about brain damage, wanting to bring the temp down by cooling her brow, wanting to do something. But beyond the occasional calpol dose, it really needed to just run its course, and naturally there was nothing too much to be concerned with (at least insofar as her current bouncy smileyness is something to go by).

Maybe I’ll get used to this, but given that my parents still get paranoid if I have a sniffle or even a lesser malady, I think its something I have for life now. And another bit of insight I have into quite how much my parents care about me, and what it means to be Dad.