This morning as I am driving Ana to school, she says: “Mummy, I do not want you to be old.” I glance at her in the back seat. She doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are on the world running past the window. She looks perfect. I know she isn’t perfect but in that moment, to me, she is the sight of perfection. Me and her, right now. Me: not old. She: not grown up.