It's almost Christmas. Will I be blogging? I guess so. The ADSL to my house works admirably, and I'll need to think of something other than cakes and food. I tend to get over-dosed on being nice. However, my kids are turning into interesting, intelligent people I enjoy spending time with. 14 years ago I had one of them in my belly while the other was running around in a red dress shining with glitter. She hunted down the old lunch-bag of my brother-in-law, and while we were eating grouse on Christmas Eve, she was eating dark bread with brown cheese, slightly stale, but stolen, private and without having to sit around and listen to the grown-ups.

Today those two are tall, lanky teen-agers, getting ready to grow taller than me. They use me for transport, money and food, I use them for research, testing out computer games and sites on them: "hey, can you have a look at this, how does it work, what is it about?" I also use them for recognizing people and remembering names (something I am spectacularly bad at): "Who's that? Whose mother is she? Should I say hello? Do I know her?"

In this way we have come to realise that living together is useful for all of us, not just a strict neccessity until I can legally throw them out/they can legally flee the house. Others told me that having teen-agers would be the real test to my temper: I think it's so nice and so easy - much easier than the screaming horrors of sleepless nights, or the stubborn, unreasonable 4-year-olds, not to talk of the distracted, thoughtless 9-year-olds... These are almost adults: nice intelligent adults who surprise and challenge me, but also support and assist me.

Too good to be true? I fear so, and expect disaster to strike. Until then, I'll enjoy this Christmas, which feels like it will be a good one.