Kiddus Interruptus

Having sex during the period your kids are young is something of an endurance sport. If you have, say, a spare fifteen minutes between grouting the kitchen tiles and unblocking the toilet, then you seize the chance of marital congress like a dying sailor reaching for Pamela Anderson's life rafts.

You certainly cannot afford to be 'too tired' or 'not in the mood' if you want to have sex any time before Christmas. You have to go from cold to hyper aroused in the time it takes a Ferrari to go from 0-100 mph. I've become adept at having sex with one finger in my ear to drown out the children's merry screaming (is that just me?) And things have been relatively fine apart from one thing. Sausage has become too damned observant for her own good.

You know how when your baby is born you hope it won't be a simpleton? Well I'm beginning to wish I had a daughter who was a little less 'on the ball.' She and her friend Meg were here the other day and I did a video of them and foolishly asked, "Do you know where babies come from?" and Meg screamed: "They come out of your pagina (yeah she said pagina)." And Sausage screeched, "Yeah, there's an egg in there and it hatches and the baby comes right out of your pagina!!!" At the same time she opened her legs and pointed up her pagina. I started mentally calculating at what age you can force your daughter to take Norplant.

Oh yes indeedy, Sausage, (4), is boy crazy. While her sister Scarlett, (7), thinks boys are merely okay, Sausage makes comments all the time about men, such as when a fairly cute guy knocked on the door trying to sell me an alarm, Sausage commented: "He was so handsome. I'd like to marry him." She also came home the other day crying. I asked her what was wrong and she said she was mad because Daniel, her 'boyfriend' hadn't noticed or commented on her new shoes. I don't think I will get through the teenage years without Valium.

Also, having sex while the kids are in the house is getting harder because they know we're having sex and thus want to interrupt.

The other day, the scene, we are in the bedroom, John has put a DVD on for the kids and I am three seconds away from having a climax when Sausage knocks on the door and shouts, "What are you doing?"

John opens the door a crack. "I'm giving mummy a massage."

Sausage: "Ah! Darn it! You're always giving mummy a massage. Can I come in and give her a massage too?"

John: "No, look, we'll be down in a minute."

I've got my fingers in my ears trying to think sexy thoughts.

Sausage goes away. Ten minutes later I'm three seconds from climax and Sausage knocks on the door.

"Daddy! Scarlett's crying. The video's too scary."

Me: "Oh fuck John, they're not watching Die Hard again are they?"

John: "No, it's some nature program. I don't know why it's scary."

Sausage: "There's a cheetah tearing the head off an antelope. There's all blood dripping out of it's head."

Me, shouting: "It's perfectly natural. That's what animals do. Just give us five minutes."

Sausage goes away and I force myself to get back in the mood.

I think I need to develop some kind of contraption, like a bike helmet which is soundproof that I can wear during sex so that I won't be bothered by the constant kiddus interruptus. Or maybe I just need some giant muffs? Or, any other ideas to keep the littluns at bay?