It took me what felt like forever to teach my children to speak. I spent years reading them Dr Seuss and saying everything in rhyme (although that backfired when one of them declared: "Look mummy! The cat s*at on the mat!"

They were actually pretty good at reading and writing for a while. Then they hit high school. And puberty. And after that everything went down a slippery monosyllabic slope via phones, WhatsApp and FB (Facebook).

I am fast discovering that communicating with anyone born after 1997 requires a large amount of linguistic devolution. Even better, no language at all. I put a picture of some home-made sausage rolls on Facebook last Saturday. It worked a charm: there was a bedroom exodus.

Once your kids are in their teens, you'd best evaporate or they'll text their friends PAW ("parents are watching") or MOS ("mother over shoulder"). Especially when they're not communicating with a MOSS ("member of same sex").

Adolescent life is a time of constant discovery and let's face it, YOLO ("you only live once").

One day they will grow up to understand ADAD ("another day, another dollar") and eventually I'll GAL ("get a life") and GOI ("get over it"). But even now, life's gr8. I might complain but I'm addicted to CEM ("checking e-mail") to see if they're trying to contact me. From the next room.