The cloakroom is the only quiet room where Lorna can talk to us in private. She makes small talk about the weather while we walk to the end of the hallway. Tom gives me a quizzical look before we go into the room and I brace myself for the one discussion a parent does not want to have with anyone who minds her kid.

‘I’m glad I have the chance to speak to both of you together,’ she says pushing a loose strand of hair from her eyes.

‘What’s wrong?’

My mind has become accustomed to hearing bad news of late so I’m not expecting her to tell me my boys are geniuses.

‘I’d like to talk to you about Aaron’s lack of progress.’

Her lips are moving but I’m finding it hard to get her words to register in my head. Tom seems more focused, nodding his head in agreement or acceptance, I’m not sure.

Like I need more shit on my plate, it turns out Aaron’s teacher thinks he needs to be assessed. He’s not doing the things a three-year-old should be doing at this stage and she listed a few markers. Tom tells her he’s noticed, Cian tends to do a lot of things for him and questions, could this be the reason Aaron is behind?

I’m impressed Tom has noticed this and can back it up with some examples, the way Cian tells us when Aaron wants to go to the toilet, how he opens his snack bag for him. Once I even found him in the toilet with Aaron, pulling paper from the roller and handing it to him. I knew it wasn’t normal but passed it off as something he’d seen the carer in the crèche do. Deep down I’ve been waiting for Aaron to catch up with Cian. Blaming Cian for helping Aaron too much is my mind trying to ignore the obvious.

There’s also that part of me that believes children grow at their own pace, shine in their own time and I said this to Lorna. She agreed with me but still felt it would benefit Aaron immensely if we got him assessed. Early intervention is the most important thing, the magic ingredient, she said, before giving us a number to ring. Lorna expressed her commitment to working with the assessor and delivering any extra intervention that they suggested.

Lorna leaves to get the boys, Tom and I stand amidst a blanket of jackets and coats shoes and bags. Both of us are silent, Tom running his hand through his hair. The door opens a few moments later and in run the boys. ‘Mammy, Daddy.’ They seem extra excited that we’re both here to pick them up and I’m reminded how easy it is to thrill a kid. Just be there.