Is the modern equivalent of boring people stiff with photos of your darling children, to blog about them? I don’t have many photos (backlog since 1998 in the album department) or see all that many people face to face. I do draw the line at whipping out the family album at the greengrocers.

When I had the children I imagined they’d mostly be useful for carrying things for me, after a few years of nappy changing. Now I’m astonished to find they make wonderful blog fillers, too. And they’re taller than their mother, so can reach things on the highest shelves.

Yesterday I hung out Son18 in the Guardian’s blog to show what a perfect, lying cheat he is, pretending to have read books he hasn’t. And getting away with it.

I was even paid the most charming compliment by one of the other bloggers for the quality of my post, that was so good it may not even be true. (You weren’t being sarcastic there, I hope..?) Thing is, with a son like mine, I don’t need to make it up. Truth is more amusing than fiction. And Philip Pullman; please tell me you’re not reading this! Son was made to read The Prisoner of Zenda immediately after our conversation.

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