My son is suspicious of the idea of Father’s Day. Why

I’m aware of sounding a bit desperate as I explain the concept to him

‘Who says it’s Father’s Day?’ my son says to me, with the questioning glare of someone who’s been told they have extra tax to pay. ‘Well, the world does,’ I tell him, suddenly self-conscious. I feel like I’m pitching the idea of a global celebration of my greatness to a panel on Dragons’ Den. ‘It’s like a feast day,’ I say, ‘a special day for daddies.’

Something about this – I can’t think what – comes out sounding quite desperate and he looks at me as if I’ve just suggested he prove his love for me with a face tattoo. It’s a look of suspicion, but also of deep and tender concern for my mental state.