However, if I didn't have this special family time sat in the rush hour traffic, I wouldn't have the chance to chuckle at their banter and this blog probably wouldn't exist (so what, I hear you cry - good point, and please don't cry).
Many a time as I inch along gridlocked roads, travelling from swimming classes to athletics training, inconveniently place at opposite ends of West Yorkshire, I jot down a reminder of their conversations.
A note from last night reads, cat, cow, field (Daniel).
"Mum"
"Yes Daniel."
"I wish I was a cat so that I could go anywhere. I would jump over a fence into a field and have a game of cards with a cow.....(pause for thought)....and if I was really talented I could learn to ride a bike."
Then he swings from the ridiculous to the sublime as he tells me a tale about a boy he knows called Jack *. Being a mum who (as you may have noticed) calls a spade a spade and doesn't really do 'mummy speak', I communicate with my children as contemporaries.
Me (44): "Ah Jack, is he the one with the loud mother?"
Daniel (7): "Well yes mum, she is, but she does have to cope with Jack and two other youngsters."
I do sometimes worry about Daniel's penchant for joining in 'adult' conversations. We were sat at Wakefield train station the other day, admiring his brother's new trainers when Daniel suddenly said: "Is it just me or is Teddy looking hot today?"
And then he swiftly returns to being seven and super cute (and perhaps slightly deaf). In a local cafe, I ordered the Seafood Trio Salad. When it arrived, Daniel peered intently at my platter of prawn, smoked haddock and salmon and after a few minutes of inspection, I had to ask: "Daniel what are you looking at?"
"Well," replied Daniel, "I'm trying to work out what's see-through."
And speaking of food, to deter Teddy from throwing chewing gum out of the car window, I painted the picture of some poor unsuspecting little spearmint-partial mouse coming along for a nibble and dying a horrible clamped-jaw death, to which he replied with a perfectly serious tone: "Oh, can't you feed chewing gum to animals?"
Gypsies recently set up camp on a local park. As we drove past the other day (football training to more football training), I put on my PC hat (yes, I do have one, thank you for asking) and chatted to the kids about the lives of travellers, the difficulties they encounter through their nomadic lifestyle and also the rights and wrongs of the local residents' reactions. We had a very mature and sensitive conversation about the pros and cons for each group until Daniel suddenly piped up in his broad Yorkshire accent: "Y' should just taser 'em!"
I gave him a good talking to about this attitude but, in his defence, this is Daniel's answer to most situations from world peace to his brother singing too loudly.
His arsenal of Nerf products grows and now extends to crossbows, snipers, machine guns and rifles, he has a frighteningly accurate aim and his bedroom wall is adorned with a countdown calendar of the 1,825 days until he can join the Cadets!
I'll end with a classic that's actually not from the mouths of my own babes / angels / gun-toting warmongers.
En route to a recent camping trip with my friend and her children, we arrived at her house in leafy Cheshire.
As they were leaving their moggy overnight, my friend ensured the cat had everything she needed; clean litter tray, ample supply of fodder, open window, pack of cards etc.
However, her concerned (and perhaps slightly over-dramatic) daughter asked: "Mum, what if she eats all the food at once and runs out before the morning and dies of starvation?"
Before my friend could speak and reassure her daughter that the cat would be absolutely fine, her son jumped in: "If she does die, can we get a dog?"
I am referred to as the member of my family 'with no sense of humour' and admit I don't often find much LOL mileage in double entendre or glaringly ambiguous print, however, I did have a brief (inward) chuckle at this sign in a Slaithwaite bakery the other day.
* She's loud and quite big as well so I've changed the name to protect all parties, mainly me
