I think I might be a truly chillax parent. As I held my son’s hand and we meandered through the throngs of parents and their offspring (who, by the way, seemed to be hunching under bags disproportionally bigger than themselves) packed together before their evil masters in the form of tuition agencies, I felt zero stabbing of FOMO. Dropped him off at the indoor playground with nary a trance of parental guilt.

I mean, I’m perfectly content that he knows how to spell “pizza” and “狗” and type his name in hiragana when finding his favourite videos on YouTube. I don’t need him to be optimising his intellectual capacity right now. I will have plenty of me time when I throw him to the sharp shark jaws of enrichment classes in the future.