Hands up, every suburban matron obsessed by Robert Irwin’s US Dancing With the Stars win. Yep, count me in. I haven’t felt this in thrall to a random since watching Cat Woman get sassy in the 1960s iteration of Batman.

Instagram videos and homepage stories of twinkle toes Robert are all I’m looking at. Good thing I got most of the Black Friday orders in early or I’d be without BB cream and short-haul international flights for the foreseeable future, so distracted am I by Robert news.

In case my kids are reading this, I’m only quasi-veering into creepy old lady territory. The reason I’m loving Queensland’s best ever export – Keith Urban included – isn’t so much that he can dance to Tony Bartuccio level, model jocks, host TV shows, or whisper crocodiles to sleep.

It’s that I know he’s so awesome because of his mum.

Terri Irwin is the Irwin I’m in thrall to. Robert’s unreal, but he’s just the marketable, rich, kind, talented conduit to my awe of his mama.

The sight of them hugging on the DWTS set, both beyond proud of the other, had me sobbing my face off. You too? The visible mother-son bond, I think. The best. And sometimes underrated.

I once spent a memorable day with Steve Irwin – including a frank discussion about his strategy to conceive a son (yep, our glorious Robert) – but have never met Terri to get a feel for her in real life.

No need. You can tell a million miles off that this woman is everything. Influential yet the anti-influencer.

Dear Terri, it’s an unattractive trait but I might be jealous of you as well as proud. You’ve single-handedly raised two independent, joyful, competent children who are both weirdly wide-eyed and super clued-up.

All amid grief from the terrible premature death of your mate for life. That’s a magic trick that doesn’t happen often.

Parenthood is truly a mixed bag. Even if your darlings are geniuses with brilliant manners, chic sensibilities and a natural backhand.

Even if you’re someone who doesn’t complain about sitting through 750-hour school concerts where your kid is onstage for two seconds and you’re busting after the pre-show desperation chardy.

Terri’s done it largely solo and spotlit. And she’s done it so well that her children have emerged from Australia Zoo as adults who can speak in sentences, tango like they’re from Buenos Aires – Bindi won Dancing With the Stars 10 years ago — and look like they smell clean.

And that’s where Terri’s the secret sauce. The Irwins are a global brand, but she’s made sure they’re also a normal family who know how to work hard and cheer each other on. She’s grown a dynasty without raising divas.

How many of us can say that? I could barely get everyone in the car with socks on, let alone create kids who understand that their responsibilities – to animals and nature, to their dad’s legacy, to each other – matter more than anything else.

While most of us are focused on launching functioning humans who can iron a shirt and know the one answer to “how are you?” Terri’s turned out two adults who know the difference between being famous and being useful.

Two who balance autonomy and maturity with valuing their family and mum. They glow when they talk about her. They respect her leadership and love. Because she nurtured their character as much as their gifts.

Robert, for one, appreciates it. “The most important people in my life are strong and powerful mothers,” Robert said during the TV finale, shouting out to Terri and Bindi.

So yeah, I’m thrilled by Robert’s cha-cha-cha. But what I see is less his fancy footwork, more Terri’s boundaries set, homework checked, self-belief instilled, love never withheld.

Instructions to keep showing up delivered instead of endless, pointless “you’re special” sermons.

Terri Irwin made Robert Irwin possible. Her boy’s triumph is her crowning moment too, a gorgeous glittering reminder that great kids don’t just happen.

Bow down, Bindi. Take a twirl, Robert. Then step back and give your mum the spotlight. The mirror ball belongs to her.

Kate Halfpenny is the founder of Bad Mother Media.

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