Our good friend Wooftie - on his annual visit from The States - dropped a couple of small-but-expensive presents on Rachel and Jake: Nintendo DS Lites.

At the same time, Lisa’s mum gave us a PlayStation 2 and donated a boxful of old games including the highly addictive Star Wars Lego.

The children instantly became transfixed by Super Mario and Star Wars Lego, and begged to play with them at all hours of the day and night. Lisa’s best laid plans - to restrict usage to weekends only - fell by the wayside pretty quickly as the novelty of computer games overtook our self-discipline.

Jake became very adept at Super Mario World on the Nintendo, and would get lost in the game until he hit a tough spot and needed adult assistance. However, he’s become adept with the DS Lite in a short space of time, and I’ve noticed that his concentration is phenomenal as he gets absorbed in the game. Almost to the point of being oblivious to everyone else. I walked into the house one day last week and he was busy playing his computer games, looked up, smiled at me, and went straight back to the game.

Rachel’s just as good with the games, probably better since she has a couple of years up on Jake, but her biggest failing with computer games is her impatience. She’s alright on her own, but when in a two-player game with Jake or her little friend Lauren, she quickly loses her temper when the game isn’t going her way. Jake also can become very frustrated, and you know this because of the anguished animal howls that he makes. That’s usually a sign that gaming time is over…..

We’re trying to teach her more about teamwork and being understanding when Jake doesn’t understand what to do. So far to limited success. What works best is when you restrict them to single-player games and let them do a level or 5 minutes each.

Having said that, there are a couple of the kids’ friends who we can’t allow to play computer games. Too many kids = major kiddie impatience, screaming, shouting and bad temper. When those folks come to the door, we kick everyone out. They get fresh air - we get a few minutes of peace before having to referee the next row!

Rachel’s chatter has really come on in leaps and bounds recently and she’s becoming such a confident and pretty little thing.

On Friday night, she sneaked out of her bedroom and came down to the living room to see us both. Knowing that she would be instantly returned to bed, she switched on the brightest, most cutest smile you’ve ever seen. With her purple pajamas, curly hair and toothless grin, she managed to bargain a few extra minutes down the stairs with us.

To give her a decision in how long she stayed up, I showed her my watch and asked her to point to where the big hand should be when she went to bed. She pointed to “7″ (giving her about 15 minutes), and so we allowed her to sit and banter with us until time came. Because she’d chosen the time, she went to bed without an argument!

Which brings me to this morning. I had the morning off work because I had to drop in an all-important post-vasectomy sperm sample. (Possibly the most un-erotic moment in my life, but let’s not get into that!) When I walked into the living room, she was all surprised to see me and asked me why I was home. I explained that I had to see the doctor after my operation to make sure everything was OK. She said - with a serene and genuine look on her face - “Well, I hope he tells you that you’re well Daddy!”

I just love how Rachel’s coming on at the moment, she’s such a bright, outgoing and clever little girl and she’s developing in the way I always imagined she would.

The latest phenomenon in our street is Bratz Club. We’re not entirely sure what a Bratz Club is, but it can’t be that bad, can it? Probably best not to ask.

Anyway Rachel and her friend Niamh are making invitations for their other Bratz Club buddies and Lisa has just overheard their planning session. As they cut up little hearts to paste on each card, Rachel comes up with their slogan - “We love you. If you love us too, come join our Bratz Club!”

Lisa’s convinced she’s heading for a career in advertising!

Jake’s been in funny form this evening, unsettled in his bed and crying out loud. Nothing we can do seems to console him and whenever I try to deal with him he kicks and screams. Just wants his mum at the moment.

Anyway, a bit earlier on, I realised that he might be hungry and Lisa thought he might have stomach cramps. Well, he didn’t bother to eat his dinner, did he? Could be trapped wind or something, so we brought him downstairs for a drink of milk and a piece of toast.

While I slaved over a hot toaster, Lisa sat on the dining room sofa, tentatively asking Jake what was wrong.

“Are you hungry?” (nods head)

“Are you thirsty?” (nods head) 

“Are you sick?” (nods head)

“Are you sore?” (nods head - are you detecting a pattern here?)

“Is your head sore? Your belly? Your bum?” The line of questioning looked like it was going to last forever. I said to Lisa, “You’re leading the witness. Ask him what’s wrong, but don’t put ideas in his head.” And just to prove my point - because we’re both irritating like that - I asked him “Jake. Do you have leprosy?”

(nods head)

Poo has become the word of the moment in our house. Between Rachel and Jake, everything they say or do has poo added to the end. Their favourite insult (or compliment) at the moment is “You’re a poo-poo head!” I say compliment because they all seem to love being called it, apart from one of their little friends who takes it as the kiddie equivalent of character assassination.

What are you having for dinner tonight kids? Poo and chips. What’s on the TV? Power Poo-poos. What should we do this evening? Go for a poo-pa-lee.

We’re going along with it for the time being, until the next fad comes along - and rest assured it will. Probably the worst thing to do right now is order them not to say “poo” and risk turning it into a way to challenge us. So, as of 7:00 every evening, a familiar cry will sound out around our house:

“Time for bed, poo-poo heads!“