Men Will Be Boys

The bedroom door opens slowly. He tiptoes round to the other side of the bed and slides in under the duvet. Mr Duck is away. The early signs of dawn are just visible through the curtains as he inches closer toward me. I can feel his warm breath on my cheek as I lie perfectly still, feigning sleep. He brushes my lips with his, in a soft butterfly kiss.

'Mummy. You're not dead.' he pronounces.

He throws back the duvet, flings me my dressing gown and sets off downstairs with the alarm keys - confident that I will follow. Scooby Doo won't cut it this morning. Tiddler requires Mummytime. The kitchen clock tells me it's 5.50am. The kettle nods knowingly - today will definitely require a 3-cup kickstart.

I thank God for PG Tips, as I break open the Gumball Rally Top Trumps.

Tiddler loves these cards. He would - his favourite programme is Top Gear. Both Little Ducks look forward to the child-friendly Wednesday repeats.

I think they identify with the small boys who present it. Someone once told me that men are just little boys with money in their pockets. They must have been watching Top Gear at the time. Last night was laugh-out-loud hilarious. The playground mischief, the one-upmanship, and the 'I Dare You' egging-on make it utterly watchable.