Isla’s new trick is to drape herself across the two close together couches in our living room, and kind of just hang out there. ‘This is supposed to be a comfortable yoga pose,’ she says. ‘Is it?’ I ask. ‘I don’t think so.’ ‘Good. Sit up so you don’t fall and hurt yourself.’ And she does, because I’m her mother, and sometimes she listens to me. She goes back to drawing and shows me her newest masterpiece a little while later. ‘Look, it’s us.’ she says.…
