One evening last summer, I was trying to put my then seven-year-old daughter, Lily, to bed. As usual, it was taking some time…

We had relatives to visit and they’d gone off to bed a while ago, eyes drooping as they headed upstairs.

But not my Lily.

Lily buzzed around her bedroom, looking for something to do, pulling books from shelves, deciding right now must be the moment to rearrange her pyjama drawer (!)…asking why everyone else was so boring while she just wanted to party!

I tried to convince her there was nothing she was missing out on. Everyone else was in bed. The house was quiet.

“Mummy, am I different to other people?” she asked.

Although the words weren’t said with even a trace of self-pity, they carried a tinge of sadness which broke my heart.

Lily was waiting for her ADHD diagnosis at the time and - once I had finally managed to get her to crash out - I went to bed myself, searching for a picture book which might show her she wasn’t alone.

I wanted a story about a girl like her, whose symptoms of ADHD were often hidden inside her head, especially away from the comfort of home. A book where she could see a fizzing brain like hers, where thoughts never slow down, where ideas and energy bounce, where trying to focus on one thing can be exhausting… and where the effort of trying to be good can be all encompassing.

I hoped Lily would be able to see that the effort of trying so hard to focus, and the dread told off, was not something she felt alone. And, while I didn’t want her struggles to be sugarcoated, simplified to glossy “superpower” language, I wanted her to learn to appreciate the brilliance of her bubbling brain: the ideas and creativity, the empathy and sense of fun.

And I wanted Lily to know that, as her mum, I understood. And not just in an academic way… but because in looking at her, I could see myself.

That night the seeds of My Brain Is Like A Disco were sown and - fast forward a year - I’m honoured to be working with the lovely Lottie Begg at Lemon Jelly Press to bring my debut picture book to life. I know the book matters to Lottie as much as it does to me.

This book is for Lily and other children like her. But also for the women who, like me, are finally understanding their disco brains as they learn about their children. The women who can, at last, can look back at that little girl version of themselves and give her the kindness and compassion she always deserved.