Millions of people have now seen the photo of a two-year-old girl screaming, while a US border agent pats down her mother.
Taken last week the snap has become symbolic of the “zero tolerance” border policies in America, which has caused hundreds of children to be separated from their parents.
My Sonny Jim is the same age as that little girl.
And I haven’t been able to get that photo out of my head since.
To be entirely honest, I’m not big on world news. So much of what goes on around the globe seems to shoot straight over my head as I battle the will of a toddler who doesn’t like eating dinner or being indoors.
Yet that image, when it flashed up on my Facebook feed, cut through all the little mundanities of my day.
I then lost hours of my week, in online rabbit holes, trying to find out more about the little girl and migrant family separations, and Trump’s policy change.
I listened to a recording of crying children at the US border. Saw images of little ones in actual cages. CAGES for god’s sake. And I couldn’t believe that, while I’ve been giggling with my lad in the sunshine, babies and children were being separated from their mothers, because they had the misfortune of being born in places where their lives are at risk.
I’m no politician. Or policy maker. I’m just a mummy.
But surely everyone can see that just as no one would put their child in a boat, unless the water is safer than the land, no one would risk separation from their baby, unless they have no other choice.
Things definitely affect me more profoundly since becoming a mother. Every time I thought of that little girl, I couldn’t help but think of my Sonny Jim in her worn-out shoes. All children deserve to stay in their parents’ arms. And I wish I could make that happen.