Independence goes at its own pace
We were living in the centre of Barcelona when my eldest son (now 13) was born. Our house was on a pedestrian passageway, and across from us was an elderly Spanish woman called Maria who would often sit in her doorway making lace. She was a cheerful and kind neighbour but would frequently voice her concerns about my new parenting skills. Her particular gripe was that I carried D a lot, and that having my baby in arms all the time would result in him always wanting to be in ar