My little boy loves minibeasts. He digs for them in the soil, and scrapes them into pots, offering them fruit and leaves, poking and prodding. Yesterday he found a millipede. He called it Robert and he carried it everywhere. He cried when we let Robert slither away into the grass before bedtime. Robert will die if you keep him in a pot, I tried to explain. Instead we drew, crafted and researched millipedes together. These are the times when I feel like a good mother. They are not an insect, Mummy, he tells me, they are an arthropod.