He’s barely two, but my grandson is already smarter than Elon Musk

There’s sometimes criticism of such role-play. Authenticity, people say, is the main thing. Fitting in with the desires of others, they argue, is always a mistake. It’s an act of self-sabotage. Or, that most vivid image, it involves turning yourself into a doormat upon which others will trample.

Even empathy, that age-old human urge to walk in the shoes of others, is now under explicit attack. In her column last weekend, Julia Baird detailed the new hostility to empathy expressed by Elon Musk and various others, mostly conservatives from the religious right.

These people think empathy is a mistake – an excuse to treat the downtrodden with excessive sympathy. When I read Baird’s column, I thought about little Sweetpea and how he’s already smarter than Elon Musk, the richest man in the world.

Sweetpea, midway between his first and second birthday, understands that one of the main joys of being human is to help others towards happiness. People give and then find that, in turn, they receive. We make concessions to another person, then receive concessions in return.

We do unto others…

As Sweetpea would say, “You want me to sit in this cot and pretend to be a baby? You know what? That’s OK. You’ll somehow return the favour.”

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Of course, take this too far and you do get the “doormat” problem. Low self-esteem and a desire to please can be weaponised by others. For some people, there was sometimes wisdom in all those assertiveness courses: check your own interests are being served, maybe not in this moment, but over time.

Most people, though, are occasional shape-shifters, and with good reason. I confess to a habit of changing my accent depending on my conversational partner: quite posh when chatting on the radio to a UK opera conductor, then – minutes later – drawling my way through an interview with an Aussie rugby league star.

“Hypocrisy,” some would say (actually, did say). “Fake as,” others would say (actually, did say).

Perhaps it did sound ridiculous on air, but I’m not giving up on the human desire to please, to fit in, to make others feel they are among friends.

We’re social animals. It’s in our nature to help and be helped. Most of us are not as Musk would have us: swimming in a sea of self-interest.

How long should Sweetpea endure his role as “baby”? Perhaps 20 minutes is too much, but maybe 10 minutes will be OK.

In the photo, he doesn’t look unhappy. If those gorgeous neighbourhood children try to hoist him from the cot before the game is over, he may very well object.