Do you remember when you lost your shoe, that time? At the ice rink. They swapped your Reebok Classics for a pair of blades. You had an hour on the ice going round in circles, holding onto the side, trying not to fall over. And then we had hot dogs with mustard and crispy onions. And then we went back onto the ice, and I held your hand and took you into the middle, and you didn’t fall over, even though you insisted that you would. No chance I’ll leave here with my fingers, you said. But you did leave with your fingers. All seven of them and your two thumbs. Nothing we can do about that one you lost in the door of a fire engine when you were five. But then, when it was all over, and I was busy being proud of you for trying, not even for not falling over, just for trying, and you went to get your trainers back, they could only find one. And they looked and looked and they took you behind the counter to look yourself and you couldn’t find it. And you laughed and were kind. And they gave you your money back and a voucher for next time. You hopped all the way home.