I'M going to start by touching on a potentially distasteful subject. The cute stuff about the kids will be along soon enough, but you will have to skip to about the sixth of seven paragraph if you want to miss the controversy. Yeah, I didn't think so.

I was driving home one evening this week when I spotted a rabbit on the side of the road. It had been hit by a vehicle, but was still alive. Unable to walk properly after its back legs had been crushed, it was dragging its hind quarters in a desperate attempt to escape the oncoming traffic.

It was a gut-wrenching sight on an otherwise pleasant summer's evening. Sadly it's not uncommon for motorists travelling on the country roads around the Dales to witness dying animals on the roadside.

So what do you do when confronted with such suffering? Do you drive on and try to think of happier things? Do you stop and attempt first-aid or even take the poor animal to the nearest vet? Or do you manoeuvre your vehicle, checking first that it is safe to do so, and mercifully finish the rabbit off with your car tyre? I did the former and I still regret it after almost a week on. I should have ended that little critter's misery by running it over good and proper.

Anyway, the kids. It's less than a week into the summer holidays - seven whole weeks the lucky little blighters - and they've already gone feral. I came down the other morning to find the girl with her little arm elbow deep in a half-full Pringles tube which had been discarded by a teenager the night before.

"Juice, juice, juice," she pleaded, clearly in need of refreshment after enjoying such salty 7am snackage.

The older boys are no better. All the summer holiday goodies - bought on a horrific weekend shopping road trip with grumpy teenagers in tow - have already been consumed. Any child now wanting a between-meal snack is pointed towards the fruit bowl.

"You have it peel it first," I told the oldest boy who had picked up a banana and was handling it with suspicion. He didn't laugh.