It is a given that children are growing up quicker than ever these days - and I'm still troubled by those reports that claim sticking them in front of the TV from Day One is responsible (we at least held out to about Day Twelve). But even so, the blatantly teenage behaviour displayed by Olivia in recent weeks is a touch of precocity too far!

Yesterday she was grunting with frustration when asked to lift her fork and affecting such a display of apapthy that even Kevin himself would have been alarmed. This on top of the fact that she has already decided that i am not a trustworthy source of information.

Here's how it works; Olivia asks a question. I answer. She throws me a suspicious look. She asks the question again, only this time she pointedly directs it to Mummy. And this is if i'm lucky. Sometimes the suspicious look will be accompanied by a direct contradiction of whatever i've said. On Saturday we walked home from the pie-shop - father and daughter bonding, Bolton style - arguing about what street her Grandma lives on. I was wrong she insisted. So we got home and asked Mummy to settle it. Turns out we were both wrong. Which doesn't make her right.

I'm used to this of course. It usually takes classess i teach a few weeks to cotton on to the fact that most things issuing from my mouth - apart from the actual teaching bits - are lies. I wasn't in the original line-up of the Wu-tang Clan. I'm not wanted for questioning about the shooting of Tupac Shakur. I don't get a royalty everytime a writer uses the word Bland.

Olivia, it appears, has grasped the point. Thankfully, when i tell her that Bolton are rubbish even she doesn't bother to argue back.