Every day, my son runs into a cloud of bees, hands spread wide. Each time I silently tread a line of my own comfort. Bees, wasps, stinging things - they don’t scare me. My fears are more nebulous. I have never wanted to instil such caution in him that he might be wary of exploring the world. But still, it’s strange to watch his chubby little fingers try to prod the vibrating, furry back of a stinging insect and hold back your own concern.