I THOUGHT I had finished with weaning about 13 years ago, when I put all that coaxing and cajoling, not to mention regularly resorting to pretending a plastic spoon was an aeroplane in order to force some lovingly prepared mush into my offsprings’ mouth, behind me.

No matter that, nine times out of ten, the mush was promptly spat out. I got there in the end. They all eat solid food and have grown into big, strong boys.

But now I’m at it again. This time I’m trying to wean them off certain foods, while attempting to coax and cajole them into eating healthy alternatives.

It’s not going well. For I have declared war on sugar, specifically sugar in cereals. And my boys have always loved cereals, not just in the morning for breakfast, but as a snack when they come in from school, then again for supper.

Albert, 14, is not impressed. Several mornings last week he insisted on going to school without breakfast: “You are the worst mother in the world,” he said. “There is no decent food in this house and you’re happy to see me starve.”

I pointed out he could have toast, scrambled egg, porridge with fruit and even, in a concession to mass-produced processed cereals, some Weetabix or Rice Krispies which are lower sugar than the rest.

But Albert accuses me of being cruel, of doing it to make him suffer. But I assure him I’m doing it for one reason only: “It’s because I give a damn.”

Apart from tooth decay, all this unnecessary added sugar, I tell him, is contributing to Britain’s escalating obesity epidemic, as well as raising the risk of type two diabetes, heart disease and some cancers.

And Albert’s extreme reaction to being forcibly weaned off the white stuff has confirmed I’m doing the right thing, for it’s as if he’s suffering withdrawal symptoms.

I have always avoided those cereals with sugar frosted coatings but hadn’t realised until quite recently how unexpectedly high in sugar even some apparently plain and boring bran-packed versions can be.

Like most parents over the years, I didn’t give much thought to the small print on the cereal boxes as I chucked those promising that they were ‘low fat’, ‘full of natural goodness’ and ‘added vitamins and minerals’ into my shopping trolley.

None of these claims are lies. But they don’t tell the full truth either.

None of us would give our children chocolate biscuits for breakfast, yet some children’s cereals can contain as much as three teaspoons of sugar, the equivalent of two-and-a-half chocolate biscuits, per serving.

The fact that I have, over the years, unwittingly fed my children sugar-filled products, marketed as healthy, does actually make me feel just a little angry now.

Out of 50 cereals tested by the campaigning group Action on Sugar last year, 14 contained at least 33.3g of sugar per 100g – the equivalent of eight teaspoons.

So the more Albert protests about the disappearance of his favourite cocoa coated and honey flavoured cereals, the more determined I am to continue with the ban.

“You have become addicted to sugar,” I tell him when he complains about his unappetising morning ‘gruel’. “You have become so used to pumping yourself full of the sugar every morning, you’re finding it difficult to come down from that. You’ll just have to ride it out.”

I thought he was doing quite well, until I emptied his school blazer pockets in order to wash it at the weekend and found empty biscuit packet wrappers. It turns out he’s been using some of his dinner money to buy them from the corner shop next to the bus stop.

I can but try.

I COULDN’T agree more with actor Ewan McGregor when he describes a child leaving home as like ‘a little death’. He talks about ‘losing’ his daughter Clara to university: “Off she went and I don’t wake up in the same house as her any more.” He is wrestling with his youngest, aged five, growing older too, aware he and his wife are experiencing every stage she goes through, from getting out of nappies to off the potty, for the last time. “She’s got this enormous pressure, doing everything for the last time in our house.” When I read this out to Albert, who is our last, he sympathised: “I know how she feels. I wonder if she’s had the last packet of Coco Pops in her house too.”