Who likes playing children's games??

'Hands up who wants to play mums and dads??'

'Not me, please not me', I think, trying to fade into the background. 'No thanks', I say.

'But we need a mum. Mikey's the cat and I'm the dog, and we need a mum'

'I think you should be two orphan animals who have lost their mummy and daddy and go on a big adventure'

'No, we need a mum'

'Sorry, I'm busy', (making dinner, folding the washing, having a cup of tea, searching on ebay)

'That's ok. You can be a mum who's doing stuff'

And the dog starts pulling the clean clothes off the table with his (her) teeth, growling noisily.

I hate mums and dads. Now I sound like my 4 year old. But really, I don't want to play imaginary games with my children.

I don't think I'm being mean. After all, I'll happily play a board game or cards, or do a jigsaw. I chase them, play rough and tumble, swing them on the swing and even get on the trampoline (although I cricked my neck somehow last time and decided perhaps I'm too old for jumping). I supply paints and play dough. I even make playdough animals and butterfly paintings on request. I happily dig holes at the beach, make boats in the sand for them to sail in, and build sandcastles by the dozen to be demolished in seconds. I play ball, I run and climb climbing frames, and enter tunnels at the play centre that no full sized adult should ever venture into. I build houses with lego and let Holly decide not to have a roof on, although really, I'd love to finish it properly. I fix the train tracks, and even play the drum in their band.

But, I don't want to play imaginary games.

I can provide water for the dog bowls (and towels to mop up), I can hand out Cheerios as dog biscuits and provide a lead pinned to the back of a jumper, but I don't actually want to join in. I don't complain when furniture is moved to make dog beds, quilts and pillows are piled on the floor to make cat homes and balls are chased round the house.

But I do not want to be the mum, or the vet, or the pet shop owner.

I'm not quite sure why. I think it's because there's so many other things on my mind; real things, things that I should be doing, or want to think about or plan for. When I'm bouncing on the trampoline or digging in the sand, I'm actually doing something fun and I can either enjoy the moment or let my mind wander. As an adult, I have lost my imagination and it's hard work getting it back. I used to have one, a pretty good one, as a kid, but somewhere along the line it's got lost in reality, been squashed and taken over by real life.

It's a shame really. Perhaps I should practice some imaginary games and open up a whole new world of possibilities.

Yesterday, we reached a compromise. We found a game I will join in. We played schools. This involved two children riding their bikes to school (at the kitchen benchtop) where the teacher (me) set them some tasks to do. We got out the pens and paper and some number and word games that I have to persuade them to do normally. I supervised whilst emptying the dishwasher, provided gold stars and rang the bell at home time, when they got on their bikes and road off home (Holly's room) to bed, only to get up again and repeat the day.

It's a win win (I think). I get them to do a few activities they might not otherwise want to, and feel good because I'm providing my children with educational experiences. And I can do a couple of chores, and not really have to imagine very much at all. And they get to play with mummy.

Four year old friendships

My 4 1/2 year old has gone back to pre-school this year to a new class, with new children. Her 3 special friends from last year have gone to school, and she's feeling slightly lost. And I feel for her. I think one of my concerns is that she is not going to be naturally outgoing and make friends easily, due to the genes. Neither Dad or I can claim to be party animals. In fact, since having children, we've been pretty anti-social in the precious time we have to ourselves.

At the age of 3 1/2 when she first started pre-school, Holly was still happy to play alongside other children. Parallel play, I think they call this stage. Over the last year, I have seen her develop friendships and learn to play with other children, and it's lovely to see. The downside now is that she's less inclined to play by herself and wants someone to play with her. Thank goodness for a generally obliging younger brother and neighbours with children the same age! She is also much more aware of specific friendships.

Her three special friends last year were boys, all a bit older than her, but relatively quiet. Holly is a trains and cars type of girl, not the fairy princess type, which meant they naturally enjoy the same toys. There's a middle ground developing, which includes playing mums and dads, tying up her hair and a drift towards skirts and dresses, but the favourite games still involve the cars and trains. This has been quite useful for Michael as second child and means our house is a haven of toys for boys.

Last year's play could be joint games, but could just as easily be friends playing alongside each other with different toys. Eight months later, Holly 'needs' a little friend to play with her.

This causes some distress when said little friend doesn't want to play the game Holly has chosen. Tears usually follow and I end up worrying the little friend won't want to come round again.

What I'm forgetting is that they forgive and forget much more easily than we do.

The first time Holly came home and told me her little playmate had said to her 'I'm not your friend', I was devastated for her, and tried to get from her why and what had happened, but she was pretty much matter of fact about it, and the following day there was no sign of any dispute. 'You're not my friend' became a regular with her brother and we've now moved to a more sophisticated level of 'if you don't do this exactly as I want, I won't be your friend'. This applies to me too. 'I'm not your friend mummy'. The power of friendships.

One of the old friends from last year dropped in with a birthday party invitation yesterday, and I swear it took the two children a whole ten minutes before they said a word to each other. And just as they got comfortable again, the friend had to leave.

Last year, as long as one of the three boys were there, pre-school drop of was okay.

Now, faced with a pre-school room full of kids who all look like they're playing happily together, it's daunting for her. I'd be the same. Go to a party now, and I've no idea how to break into a conversation. A glass of red wine seems to do the trick. Something to hold, and help you relax. But I can't really recommend that one to Holly...

I'd love her to grow up with the confidence to walk into that room and feel comfortable striking up a conversation, or joining a group.

Pre-school drop off have become harder again, but I bit the bullet early and enlisted some help from Holly's new teacher, explaining that she might be missing her friends. We are also sharing lifts with a new neighbour who just happens to have a child in the same class as Holly, who is outgoing and confident. She is now Holly's new best friend, and not surprisingly, Holly doesn't kick up a fuss for them at drop off. She reserves that for me!

The teacher also talked to me about making play dates after pre-school and encouraging friendships by catching up in our own time. I encouraged the friendships last year, inviting her friends for play dates and letting her go to the neighbours, and we had plenty of interaction with children her age. So now I too have to start again with a whole new set of mums who all look like they know each other, and you know what ? That's not much easier at 40 something than at 4!

Mum's been got...again

Do your kids behave beautifully for other people, and become a nightmare with you? Do they get glowing reports from pre-school and school, only to turn into horrors when they come home, making you wonder if the school have got the right child?

This, apparently, is normal. From an early age, your baby will learn to push your buttons, and they will continue to push them for as long as they can.

You are programmed to respond to your baby. Remember those first cries, and how heart wrenching they were? The pin prick in the heel when they are a few days old, which made them wail pitifully, and made you breakdown completely; the first immunisations, where dad had to come along to comfort you, not the baby; their first bump or bang, which you actually felt for them. I can picture being in the supermarket when Holly was little and not being able to stand listening to her wailing one minute more, so I fed her, there and then, in front of the yoghurt section, with cameras looking on. It was either that or abandon the shopping, and you know how hard it is to get shopping done...

As they develop, they learn new tactics and at some point they realise they actually have some control over this. They can scream blue murder, and mum will come rushing, they can pester and pester and they learn which behaviour mum gives in to.

And then the language comes and it adds a whole new dimension to the challenge. They can whinge and whine and complain, and beg and plead and drive you completely insane.

So why do they whinge and whine when they get home? Because they can. Because only here do they feel they can get away with it. No teacher is going to put up with that behaviour. No teacher is programmed to their pain and sadness like mum is.

Hey, let's give them their due as well. They have been on their best behaviour for 6 hours, and now they need to let it out. 6 hours build up of worries and stresses and they turn into little whiners.

So what do we do? Firstly, we have to acknowledge what is happening. They are playing you mum, they have got you sussed and you are being taken for a ride. Not your beautiful child? No? Well, maybe only mine then, but she's definitely got me sussed.

I have to be strong and be firm and be consistent. I must switch off to all whinges, I must only respond to polite requests, I must be objective in my analysis of the breakdowns. Is this for real, is she tired, is she hungry, is she after attention, if I respond, am I setting myself up for a fall?

Today, Monday, we are back to pre-school, and Holly does not want to go. I don't think there's a real reason why. She was perfectly happy last week. She wants some sympathy from mum, she wants a cuddle, she wants mum to stay. Mum got frustrated with her not going to bed nicely last night, so she wants some extra attention.

So when I go to leave, she is literally clinging to me, and I have to request some help from the teacher to free myself. And do I feel good about this? No. I feel cruel, I wonder if she has enough friends here, if the teachers treat her nicely, if I've chosen the right pre-school. But when I take a closer look at Holly, she's enjoying herself. I've been got again.

Being in control

'Time to brush your teeth Holly', 'Time to get in the car Holly', 'Let's go Holly'.

'Just a minute Mummy', 'I'm busy Mummy', 'When I've finished this Mummy'.

Now who does that sound like?? I sometimes think it must be hard getting their heads round why it's ok for mummy to be busy when they want something, but when we want them to do something, it's generally now. Establishing who's in charge in our house is an ongoing process, a battle of wills, and you can see sometimes that the kids just want to be in control. I can understand that, I want to be in control as well!

I think there are two things that help. They need plenty of warning, and we need to give some options, so they feel an element of control.

The other half has suggested we need to tell the kids what we're doing sometimes, rather than give them a choice. For example, if you ask Holly if she'd like to go to the beach or watch television, she'd choose the television. Yet if we went to the beach, she would have loads of fun. In this case, we need to guide her to the right choice, or put up with some resistance knowing it'll be alright when we get there.

With some of the little things though, choices are perfect. Do you want the green bowl or the orange bowl for breakfast? Would you like to wear the blue dress or the pink leggings and t-shirt? They then get the chance to make a decision, and for a moment, they are in charge.

Giving too much choice can make life harder though. If I ask Holly to choose what she wants to wear, she's faced with a whole wardrobe of options, and inevitably she'll pick something I wouldn't have chosen.

There've been a couple of times where she's emptied her money box and we've gone to buy a toy. Generally it's narrowed down to a train or a book or something specific, but even then, faced with a whole choice of trains, she struggles to make a decision, wants them all, and things end up getting fraught.

Giving warnings helps the children maintain some control as well. They have no real concept of time, so just because it's 7:30 and bedtime is always 7:30, doesn't mean they'll drop things on request and hop into bed. A 10 minute warning will help, then 5 minutes, then 1 more minute. Ok, so they don't know what 10 minutes means, but they do know that it means soon. Maybe a more specific approach would work better - one more story, or one more turn each, then we have a bath, go to bed, get in the car... or whatever it might be.

It's at this point that they start practicing their negotiation skills and you have to stand firm if you don't want to go through that negotiation every time.

My sister suggested an approach that works with her boys. If you bet them they can't do something, they'll rise to the challenge. I bet you can't get in that car seat before I get round to your door! I bet you can't get the the bathroom before me!

It didn't work with Holly. Her reaction is 'no I can't'. Girls perhaps, are more tricky.

I have found that counting to 3 is a good tool. 'You have the count of three to get in that bathroom'. Usually with an additional 'or else you won't be getting a story tonight' or some other threat I can follow through with. And somehow just starting to count gets a result.

At least it used to. The last time I used this approach, Holly told me I needed to count to 8....