Last Night we all sat around the kitchen table with pens and pieces of paper making out lists. Actually, it was just me at first, beeping through a tiny dive computer and scribbling notes into one of my log books, something I still do for the priceless memories of looking back. But I was soon joined by the 5, 7 and 8 year-old Littlies with their list-making and so, in between maximum depth here and the underwater visibility there I found myself assisting with the spelling of various toys and games for these lists. There was also lots and lots of writing the word ‘please’. You’ll have guessed by now where these lists are going and who they’re for of course, which is why I found myself with much explaining to do about what goes on at the North Pole Workshops…

I don’t think I can divulge what is on all the lists, suffice to say that those who need to know will know, but a funny thing happened when Ted, who is now 8, told me all about a particular Playstation game he’d seen. We don’t as yet have either a Playstation, X-Box nor a Wii (there’s a stupid name if ever there was one) instead we have trees in the garden, bikes, a large park outside, dolls, pushchairs, a tree-house and of course the beach just ten mniutes away. But Ted gets his virtual reality fix from his elder brother’s handed down PSP along with plenty of practice at friends’ houses.

So with his best descriptive head on he set about explaining that the game is centred around cars and you get to drive these cars really fast. Then, as if to qualify the game’s acceptable status, he stressed to us all – the girls are listening intently by now – that there was absolutely no swearing in any of the game. He laboured on this point a fair bit as he continued. Hmmm … that’s good thought I, we wouldn’t want any of that swearing round here in this house would we now? After some more details the awful realisation of which game it actually was dawned on me. It was Grand Theft Auto Chinatown. Now if ever there was something I was going to hate it’s a game about stealing cars.

So I gently explained that he could certainly put it on his list but I cannot have it in the house and I’m not sure the guy in the red and white suit would be too thrilled about it either. He was puzzled, but there’s no swearing in it, he reiterated the point strongly now. I went on that it wasn’t swearing that would be the problem with it, no, it was a game about stealing cars and that is just plain wrong. Games should be fun things to do, in the world of children at least. Stealing however is not a fun thing. If your mate whips away your sandwich at lunchtime and eats it as a joke, you’re not laughing because it sucks. But it’s still theft. On top of that stealing cars is especially dangerous, things go wrong, cars crash into stuff and people usually always get hurt or killed. So, I put it to him that how can something so stupid, dangerous and wrong be made into a game? He clicked on fast that Dad doesn’t like the GTA idea as a game one little bit and agreed with the point.

Incidentally, a similar conversation occurred about 10 years ago with his elder brother and he saw my point straight away when I asked how he’d feel if some loser stole and smashed up our Dax Rush sports car we had built. Point made. And Ted never knew that Alistair made sure that GTA wasn’t in the collection of games he handed down with the PSP…

Back to Ted and as he thought a little more about our conversation, satisfied with our agreement for now, I studied his look and those enquiring brown eyes and readied myself for the next barrage of defensive questioning. Instead he asked, deadly serious,

“Can I get a jet-pack then instead?’

Somewhat bemused I composed myself for a reply,

“Er… Yeah, ‘spose so, you mean a real one don’t you?’

“Yeah, one I can go up in…”

“Mate, I’d rather you had a jet-pack over Grand Theft Auto anyday!’

And now I’m sitting here thinking, what on earth have I said…?

Later that night, much later in fact, Lottie, the 5 year old, refused to go to bed without the contact from us she seems to crave so much and came through to try and watch TV. Lindsay had lined up the last half hour of a film she’d been watching earlier, ‘Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason’ and as I’ve seen it I took off to bed to read. I tried to coax Lottie along with me and get her to sit in her bed next door to our room after a cuddle, but it was no good. She’d managed to secure a spot on the sofa, cosily snuggled in at one end in the hope she wouldn’t be spotted so as to watch the end of the film and that’s where she was staying.

A short time later I returned to say my goodnights and see if I could get her to bed one more time. Wide-eyed and concentrating as if in a sweet shop Lottie didn’t bat an eyelid when I leant in for a goodnight kiss and before I could say a word she said,

“I’m only looking at the wall up there, not the TV screen OK?’

Who am I to argue with that? Later I found out that with some deft screen-skipping on the remote Lindsay was able to steer her through Bridget’s heart-wrenching love scenes to the end. And Lottie was happy to see Bridget again in her underwear in the part where the man buys her the book and kisses her in her undies…

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