“How was your day, mum,” enquired one of DS1’s classmates as he greeted his mother in the playground after school. That is something I’ll never hear my son say – and not just because I’m his dad, not his mum. DS1 doesn’t do this type of chitchat. It works both ways, though. When I ask him how his day was, he is, let’s say, not very forthcoming. He was there, so therefore you must know

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“How come you can remember you have those?” I asked DS1, as he discarded the duplicates from his latest Match Attax purchases without having to check his album. “Because my brain actually works,” he replied, dismissively. It’s a shame it doesn’t work so well when it comes to doing his homework. But you can’t have everything. The weekly battle to get DS1 to do his homework drags on. We win the occasional battle, but I

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While I don’t condone senseless graffiti, especially when it is scrawled on a wall in your own lounge, the phrase “Good afternoon, your mum looks like Kim Jong-un” did make me chuckle – once I’d got over the fact that I’ll need to repaint the room. Was the sudden urge to write all over the wall a sign DS1 was struggling? Or was it a homage to Banksy? We’d just returned from a few days

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