One of my personal “not” favourites: there we were in town, my narcissistic mother proudly pushing the pushchair… until she calmly rolled it into the road. Cars whizzing past, people looking horrified—and there she stood, smug as anything on the pavement. “I was safe though,” she said. Like my baby was just some extension of her handbag. That’s the narcissist in a nutshell: as long as THEY’RE fine, nothing else matters. Your baby could be in traffic, your mental health could be in ruins, but hey—they’re still standing on the curb, so everything’s apparently fine. That was the day I realised: I wasn’t going to fight for scraps of care anymore. If you can roll a baby into danger and call it fine, you don’t get babysitting rights, you get lifelong distance.