My wife was at work when she received the chilling call from the nursery: our two-year-old son Jim had had an accident. She grabbed her bag and keys, ready to drive to the nearest hospital. In fact he’d only grazed his knee; the nursery nurse was seeking permission to put a plaster on, then passed the phone to her supervisor to confirm that the OK had been given.

A one-off, you might think, but in fact this is not untypical in the all-caring, all-smothering — and paranoid — world of nursery schools.

Jim can sleep for England. All he needs is a surface to lie on and his comfort blanket. This is why we asked the nursery to ensure that he sleeps only an hour at lunchtime, otherwise it would cut into his night-time quota. A few days later, I went to collect him and his report card said that he had slept for 1½ hours. Why hadn’t they woken him as instructed? Because they tried on two occasions but he wouldn’t be roused, and a third attempt would be “child abuse” .

In the summer, Jim was not allowed to play outside because they couldn’t find the consent form for putting on suncream. Several hours later and after an exchange of faxes, our youngest was able to join his mates under the burning, tropical Balham sun.

It goes on. No, we couldn’t take in a home-made birthday cake because it had been made with real eggs not powdered (reminder: must find our ration book). A friend was prevented from taking a birthday cake into her son’s North London nursery because the staff feared that some children might have an allergic reaction to the icing sugar. She was allowed to bring plain fairy cakes — but not to light a candle: health and safety, of course.

Amanda King’s 14-month-old son will sleep only in his buggy, but — health and safety again — this is forbidden. “So he doesn’t sleep during the day, which means he’s a handful when he comes home,” says Mrs King, who lives in the Nottingham area. Emma Bracewell, in Suffolk, was told not to bring in egg boxes to her sons’ nursery. “They said it was because of fears over salmonella — from the boxes.”

Of course, parents need to give consent for medication — but Kiran Jones, in Bromley, southeast London, discovered that his nursery wouldn’t administer Calpol to his nine-month-old because he hadn’t left a spoon. You guessed it — health and safety.

Against the backdrop of a compensation culture, nursery schools, prompted by Ofsted, are watching their backs, pushed by a demanding, albeit vocal, minority of parents wanting a no-risk environment for their children. As Laurent Lucas, a former nursery worker, explains: “We live in a society where people often sue for ‘negligence’. I have had parents complaining because their child had an allergic reaction to a plaster.”

Ceri Harris, another former nursery worker, agrees: “Parents seem to think that when something like this happens it is the carer’s fault. People are so narrow-minded and make a fuss of the smallest things, making our job harder. Don’t be hard on the nursery: they are just doing their job. Be hard on parents who are greedy.”

In fact, despite the perceived threat from parents, the National Day Nurseries Association — the trade body representing nearly 14,000 nurseries — says that there is no evidence of an increase in legal actions against members. Yet whatever the statistics, nursery workers feel that they work under the threat of prosecution. Indeed one glimpse at the dietary requirements on my son’s nursery wall said it all: vegan, vegetarian, no cow’s milk, only organic vegetables, no tap water . . . our son was the only one admitted without a stipulation.

If parents insist on demanding the type of care that they think only they can provide, then maybe they should look after their children themselves.

Jim has now moved nursery

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