There are two pictures in my friend’s home that my nine-year-old finds scary. One is an original artwork of a woman who has had her legs bitten off by a fanged creature (drawn by my friend) and the other is an old-fashioned portrait of Jesus wearing a crown of thorns (bought from an op shop). It’s the violence of the imagery my daughter dislikes, but still: Who would have thought I would one day turn into a woman who would stand on a friend’s doorstep and say, “My daughter’s not coming in here until you’ve taken down your picture of Jesus!”

Incidentally, my boyfriend is an atheist but his mother is Catholic. When people ask if this poses a problem he replies, “No, she doesn’t believe in atheists.” Indeed, a couple of years ago when this same daughter thought it was a good idea to tell her grandma she didn’t believe in God, her grandma was unperturbed. “Don’t be silly, of course you do.”