The very worst thing about having sons has got to be the somewhat strident, always unsolicited advice that I receive on bringing up boys. All the conversations inevitably revolve around respect and sensitivity, the subtext being that boys are programmed to grow up into violent brutes, an inevitability that can only be averted by the intervention of everyone who has some free advice to dispense. There is a perennial stream of forwards and open letters to ‘mothers with sons’ which turns into an avalanche sometime around the Women’s Day. This year, on schedule, I was forwarded a particularly irksome...

The very worst thing about having sons has got to be the somewhat strident, always unsolicited advice that I receive on bringing up boys. All the conversations inevitably revolve around respect and sensitivity, the subtext being that boys are programmed to grow up into violent brutes, an inevitability that can only be averted by the intervention of everyone who has some free advice to dispense. There is a perennial stream of forwards and open letters to ‘mothers with sons’ which turns into an avalanche sometime around the Women’s Day. This year, on schedule, I was forwarded a particularly irksome...