There's only so many Care Bear conversations a dad can take. It's time for He-Man to intervene ...
I just about had my fill of the Care Bears. I vaguely remember them from my childhood – not, I'd like to stress, that I was ever into them myself.
I, like any self-respecting ten-year-old in 1984, wasn't interested unless it involved Han Solo, the Millennium Falcon and tribes of Ewoks.
But I was aware of the Care Bears. They were one of those cultural phenomena that came and went like a blazing comet – here one minute, gone the next – a bit like Furbies, Cabbage Patch Dolls and Rylan Clark.
Girls liked them. And so did the weird boy who lived down the road at number 43.
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But time's moved on. Tickle Me Elmos and Buzz Lightyears came and went and I thought the Care Bears, and their sickly sweet brand of touchy-feely lovey-dovey nonsense had been consigned to the skip.
That was until we paid a visit to Grandma's a few weeks ago.
There, in her well-meaning but infuriating grasp, was a DVD she had found in some supermarket bargain bucket.
"Ooh, look girls," she said to my two gimlet-eyed, treat-seeking missiles of daughters.
"I've found this. Your mummy used to love these when she was a little girl, so I've bought you it."
And that was it. For the past two weeks we've had Care Bears morn, noon and night.
In the car on the way home, I had a long and incomprehensible, interminable, description, frame-by-frame, of the plot, followed by an in-depth discussion between my six-year-old and four-year-old over the merits of the various Care Bears.
"My favourite's Tender Heart Bear," said Poppy. "He's the friendliest.
"My favourite's the blue one," said Tilly. "He's the bluest."
"What's your favourite, Daddy?" they asked.
"My favourite's the Don't Care Bear," I replied. "The one that does what comes naturally to bears in the woods."
They didn't get it.
I've never understood before when people have asked me: "Wouldn't you like to have a son?"
It never made any sense to me, seeing as I had two reasonably perfect, healthy daughters, I didn't get why I should feel the need for anything different.
But now the Care Bears have reared their annoyingly perky heads – I'm starting to see their point. Maybe I would be more on the same wavelength with an offspring who likes playing Army death squad with an eagle-eyed Action Man than having a tea party with Stupid Grin and Vomity Bear.
And it's endless. Before breakfast, "can we watch the Care Bears?" After swimming, "can we put the Care Bears on?" At bath time, "have we got time to watch the Care Bears one more time before bed?"
I'm all Care Beared out. I'm thinking of digging my old He-Man videos out of the attic and playing them on a loop. That'll teach 'em.