Puffles

Little OCD has built up a collection of ten puffles on Club Penguin. I tell him it's too much. He says it's better to have more then you don't get so attached. Until now he has had just two puffles. They have been quite over-indulged. One has his own dancefloor. I think with 10 he's biting off more than he can chew, what with the feeding and everything.

He appears, blinking, in the kitchen. I'm thrilled that he has torn himself away from the computer. With a carefully managed reintroduction to daylight and human interaction he could go on to lead a normal life.

"I'm banned. For trying to use the wrog password. For 72 hours. That's 72 times three thousand and six hundred seconds."

We have this thing about breaking all timed events into seconds, which can then be drummed out on the side of the bath with a triceratops before bed. So far the compulsion has been limited to the reconstruction of , say, boiling an egg or Pass Out by Tinie Tempah. I'm worried.

"What will happen to your puffles? Can someone else look after them for you?"

"No they'll die. I'm going next door can I have a bag of crisps?"

Club Penguin

Little OCD wants me to text Harrison's mum to see if he can meet up with him on Club Penguin. "How nice," says Nana. "You mind that road though and do your coat up."

Harrison and his mum are on their way back from the supermarket. He will log on to Club Penguin when they return. There she is now. Can he meet Harrison in the Dojo Courtyard? Sorry the baby's pulled the dongle out so just need to log back in.

We wait for 10 minutes. Still no sign of him. Apparently he could be on a different server. This is annoying. More texting:

- Sorry can't find him. Is Harrison on the arctic server? x

- Where's that? x

-It's on a list where you first log in. Is it too early for a vodka? x

- Def not. On way to servers. There it is. Harrison is on the arctic one now. Back in the dojo courtyard but no sign? x

- Had to go back to his igloo. Will be in the nightclub after he's collected his puffle x

-This is a nightmare. Ok Harrison's going to the nightclub x

- Can't see him in the nightclub. Tears. We're out of tonic xx

- He's gone to the giftshop. O hold on we've come out of the arctic server and gone into abdominal. Shall I pop some tonic round? o sorry its abonimal x

- ok. no dont worry found concentrate for sodastrm x

- ok. O there he is!

-Thank god xx

Skaterham

We have arrived to collect the normal one and three of his friends from a local church that has been converted into an indoor skate park. He is aghast to see me as I don't usually leave the house on a Saturday. "What are you DOING IN HERE?" he hisses. "Don't speak to anyone." His well-founded fear is that I will humiliate him by attempting to engage one of the organisers in a 'down with the kids'conversation about tattoos or dubstep or how they've missed a trick by calling the place Skaterham and not Sk8terham.

He needn't have worried, because I can't see a thing. It's as dark as Hollister in there and I am wearing sunglasses to placate the hangover that has hauled me out for salty fries dunked in black coffee. We bundle them and their scooters into the car and make for KFC. They all want a popcorn chicken snack box. Little OCD enjoys the way this rolls off the tongue, as he last week enjoyed 'Michael MacIntyre' and the week before 'chicken dhansak' and softly murmers 'popcorn chicken snack box' repeatedly for the rest of the weekend.

Denial

"I can't believe you take your lenses out to weigh yourself." The eldest has snuck up behind me in the bathroom. He is wet from the shower and wearing a gas mask. He is smug to have lost a stone since December and steers most conversations toward weight loss if he can.

The scales are wrong, probably the batteries are going. Or it could be the uneven floor so I take them into the bedroom where they are still wrong. Actually my hair's a bit wet. We place a damp towel on the scales to replicate the weight of wet hair but it doesn't register.

I take the dogs on a long walk, 5k, and vow to do so every day. According to the pedometer app on my phone, this burns off 254 calories, or a Kit Kat Chunky. But I have even lied to the pedometer about my weight, so it's probably more.

Tesco

Little OCD is fighting sleep so that he will be able to tell his dad about our visit to the new Tescos when he gets in. "There was a Costa there, at the front, and saucepans, and slipper socks and a man going around with a machine that cleans the floor. I think they've got those Scuba Doo bikes that you use underwater. I'm going to ask for one of them for my birthday."

They didn't have, however, printer paper, fresh mint or a working passport photo booth, which is annoying.