I argue, but she is adamant.
‘You have your traditions; we have ours.’
My eyes search for my wife, looking for support, but her face remains impassive, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
My whole body reacts against my instinct to obey. My stomach readies to give birth to today’s lunch.
I take deep breaths as I am told it will calm down. But I reach into the basket and lift my crying daughter to my chest.
‘You’re safe with me, my love.’