Six is a splendid age for puppy love. At dinner, I asked my small son why 5-year-old Violet had taken his fancy over all the other girls in his class: “Because she’s the only one with a round head.” His older brother stifled a guffaw. But I knew what he meant, having a round head myself, unlike my children’s father, who has an annoyingly square head.

My 6-year-old was smitten. I watched him as he deliberated over whether to write her a love letter using red crayon or orange crayon. He settled on blue. Then he drew an elaborate aeroplane with two wings and two wheels and two little faces peering out from two windows in business class. “To Violet” he wrote carefully and drew a box with a love heart.