I’ve been having an interesting ongoing conversation with my boys recently about who is the boss of their brains.

My middle son is always telling me ‘my brain told me to do it,’ often in relation to things like nicking chocolate from the cupboard, scribbling on the walls, filling up the toilet bowl with mountains of toilet paper and, post-tantrum analysis, brain gets the blame. His brain told him to do it.

You are the boss of your brain, I say to him, and not the other way around. As if I haven’t been entirely at the mercy of my brain for the last 40 odd years. Only recent information into my consciousness has led me to understand experientially that if I do a bit of mental weight-lifting, I can claw back some control and try to take charge of this brain situation.