It is not a bribe. It is a reward.

In guilt, have started work again. This is not something I want to do. I have to, so I can buy clay. And paintbrushes, glue, felt squares, and wiggly eyes.

It's not like I get any time off, the sort of time you might get if you have to climb into a car or take a bus or hop on the bike or take the train to go to work everyday in an air-conditioned office. No. I work at home. This has several disadvantages. One of the worst is that my desk is two doors and six metres away from the kitchen table. So the kids get to wander into the office, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; lost souls haunting the gates of damnation, pleading for orange juice, toilet paper, chalk pastels, paintbrushes, a vase to put in the flowers that just got picked. What? We haven't got any flowers, except the ruddy pansies I just planted.

After a morning of constant interruption, I'm about to snap. I started the sighing and snorting and drooping shoulders some time ago, and even though my mouth is still saying Yes? What do you want? the voice is hard and with a glittering steel edge that says If you don't get out of this office right now I shall cut off the horns from all your unicorns. Slowly.

And like all resourceful, resilient children, this means Adopt a New Technique. They creep in, rather than bounce in clutching three dead pansy heads and a big smile. They open the office door so slow and quiet I can hear the hinges breathe. Then slowly, one by one, they stand behind my chair, silently, eyes glued to the screen, mirroring mine. But they're not looking for a misplaced comma. They're waiting for a hesitant finger click of the mouse; a small sign that says, in the war, I've broken. This is the moment for someone to whisper Mummy? The toilet paper's run out.

By midday, there's only one thing to be done. Bribery. There are rules to this, and they are best followed without unnecessary ears. I wait till Dig's nowhere about and then Pssst. Tiger! Come here.

The first and most important rule is to find out what Tiger wants, more than anything in the world. Once I've got her on side I can bribe the other two with a bar of chocolate. I say Not a horse. Try something else. And she does. Second down the list is this.

OK I whisper. Here's the deal. I want two hours a day uninterrupted time in the office. If I get that, after five days you get the arena. When it arrives, tell daddy we've had it ages. Tiger nods. And keep your sisters out the office.

Deal done. So long as she doesn't grass me up, and the other two like Dairy Milk, it should be fine.