I love my grandchildren with a ferocity that surprises me. I would also, just occasionally, like a Tuesday that is mine. Somewhere along the way ‘can you help out’ became a standing three-day booking with no end date and no HR department.

We don’t say anything, of course, because we adore them and because saying something feels like failing. So we quietly reschedule the specialist, skip the walking group, and tell ourselves this is what we’re for now.

Here’s my gripe, and it’s a gentle one: when did the most experienced carers in the family become the least consulted? Say yes gladly — or learn, finally, to say a loving no?