How to be the World’s Worst Mum. Step Eleven: Speaking the Truth.

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We are sitting wriggling our toes which are wrapped in cosy socks. Outside fireworks are exploding to announce the New Year. We have cake to eat and a DVD to watch.

All is well with the world.

‘Do you remember what you said?’ The Teenager asks.

‘What’s that?’ I ask smiling.

‘When I was…about …seven?’ The Teenager asks.

‘Seven?’ I look at him puzzled.

‘When I asked how dinosaurs got the name “dinosaur”.’ The Teenager explains for me helpfully.

‘Umpphh,’ I say. ‘I don’t remember that question. What did I say?’

‘You said you didn’t know; but that perhaps they were first discovered by a Mr Dino Saur and so they were named after him.’

‘I don’t remember saying that.’ I say laughing.

There’s a pause and I know what’s coming. ‘And I believed you!’ he declares with full Teenage angst.

‘But that was in the days before Wikipedia,’ I feebly say in my defence, still laughing.

‘But I believed you!’ he says.

I type “Mr Dino Saur” into Google and discover that for those souls that would like to a Mr Dino Saur T. Shirt can be bought.

‘Look,’ I say delighted with my find. ‘Others have had the same thought!’

But the Teenager isn’t to be mollified.

‘But I believed you!’ he moans in a hurt voice that has even more impact as New Year breaks, and celebration cake lies uneaten, and fireworks break in the sky.

‘Mr Dino Saur?’ I say.

And eventually he laughs too.