When my daughter Lily was seven, I asked her one afternoon if she'd like to make cupcakes. She replied: "No."
You might assume that most children would be thrilled to make a mess and lick icing off spoons. Instead, she eyed me suspiciously and replied tersely: "I don't want to learn about weighing and measuring."
It was a salutary lesson.
I realised if my child viewed this once-innocent mother-daughter pastime as another attempt to teach her maths, I had got carried away with improving activities.
In my efforts to optimise every moment, not only was Lily not having fun, but I wasn't enjoying motherhood. So, it was a relief to hear about a new study that highlights the fact that it's not so much a battle hymn that tiger mothers are singing, but a sad, anxious song.
The researchers found that mothers who practise "intensive" parenting are more likely to feel exhausted and under pressure, and enjoy being a parent less than their peers. There was less leisure time and more tension between the parents.
Indeed, as a former tiger mother, who took my foot off the gas when I realised what it was doing to our family and wrote a book about it called Taming the Tiger Parent, I am sure that fewer parents would set out on high-performance parenting if they could foresee how miserable it would make them. Because it's not just the constant anxiety that we can never do enough that is sucking the joy out of parenting.
It's also what it does to our relationships.
When Lily started playing Suzuki violin aged six, it sometimes seemed that my husband and I were no more than strangers, passing the baton of childcare as we rushed out of the door. Other parents report the same as they ferry their child from league football practice to Japanese harp renditions, and exhaust themselves getting them up for tutoring before the school day starts and language classes on a Saturday.
Tiger parenting can quickly turn toxic if parents forget what really matters. The relationship counsellor Amanda Goodhart counsels couples trying to do the best for their children, but not necessarily remembering that a loving, stable home life is what children need.
She recalls recently seeing a husband and wife who claimed they didn't have time for a date night because they were too busy helping their son get into a high-achieving school. Amanda says: "I asked them how it would help their son if they got divorced. That hadn't even occurred to them."
Then there is the fraught atmosphere that tiger parenting creates at the school gates, when competitiveness sabotages friendships. Outside Lily's sought-after nursery, neurosis underpinned every conversation, as most of us parents had the same goal of getting our children into the same selective schools.
We operated with depressing cloak-and-dagger secrecy and paranoia because of the fear that other mothers were doing more than we were. I remember spying the tell-tale yellow plastic Kumon folders inside rolled-up magazines in rivals' handbags - and thinking I had better sign Lily up.
The latest intelligence was passed along in hushed tones: "Did you hear that Sarah (just turned four) can write half a side of A4?""Have you heard that Yasmin (three and a half ) is reading chapter books on her own?"
By stealth and persistence, I wheedled out the name of the top tutor in the area, only to find that she had a two-year waiting list, making me feel as though I'd let Lily down.
Eventually, I decided to pull her out of the race.
Because as this latest research shows, the cruel irony of this intensive effort on our offspring's behalf is that it pushes away the people we are trying to protect. Children come to believe that their parents love them more when they do well - and less when they don't.
Family psychologist Emma Citron says: "Many parents are reacting to the increasing pressure for results from schools and peer pressure from other parents. We think we have to be seen to be doing the best for our children.
"But if parents are becoming miserable, it's a clear sign this is not the way to go. I equate this sort of heavy-handed parenting with emotional aggression. It can destroy the fabric of family life."
As for Lily, now 14, when she comes home from school, I love asking her "How are you?" and meaning it.
It's not just Lily who is a happier, more well-rounded person because I gave up tiger parenting.
I am too.
Telegraph, London