Intrigue has deepened in Maria's ongoing effort to win social acceptance.

Her nemesis cunningly won Maria's friends back to the other side with wizard japes such as sticking a tissue to the back of Maria's shirt and telling her she had stuck it to the back of her head, where of course Maria couldn't find it and became more agitated while her persecutor laughed and pointed. Her distress only deepened when all her friends found this hilarious and this visible distress only heightened their enjoyment.

She is excited and happy when I pick her up from school every day but her mood darkens when she relates to me the tense dynamic of her social circle. It is a classic pecking order scrap: Her nemesis thinks Maria is a place too high and she - nemesis - wants that spot in the pack. Girls start this stuff so young.

We had a chat about laughing off provocation.

Although to be honest all my soul tells me that if there is one way to handle war, it is to counter-attack much faster and harder than your enemy expects. Overwhelming force, lightening speed, a clear objective. I know this strategy to be correct, and appeasement to be wrong. [Aha. Sun Tzu - Make enemy regret ever making you enemy. Inflict much pain so enemy hesitates before striking again. Attack your enemy in this moment of indecision].

And yet I betrayed the strategy I know to be best. I spent a long conversation with Maria rehearsing provocation and how to respond gently without escalating, how to deny her taunter the prized reaction. She seemed to accept it, but she won't when it comes to the crunch. Children know how to get under each other's skin .

I am teaching her to be an appeasing, peace-loving coward.

Her little brother, however, conducts his wars clandestinely. Tonight he didn't want to go to bed. We put off the hour by reading a French kids' book together, the three of us - which is really Maria asking Carlo about the story in her perfect French accent ("Ou est le couchon, Carlo?") and Carlo pointing it out on the page ("C'est la.") with an intervention neither by father nor the English language. ("Tres bien Carlo. C'est-que ce?" "C'est canard! Quack! Quack!").

We tucked him in just as his Mum arrived home from ending global poverty.

So Josie and I dined and chatted and I suppose an hour and a half went by and the kids fell asleep, right? No. Carlo climbed silently from his cot and pulled out a very large toy box, stood on it to reach the light switch then for ninety minutes quietly played with his vast collection of plastic junk. He distributed items round his room and never let out a peep.

When Josie walked in, it was all just a big naughty grin.

"I know I'm naughty, but I also know you're not going to do anything. Shall I get back in my cot now? Righto!"

Tomorrow they can sleep in.

Maria's school is closed by the general strike. Carlo's teachers are not going out, but the creche will be on limited hours because staff can't easily get to work with the transport system being out.

The strikers will hit the government with huge demonstrations. The government will not be provoked. It will respond gently and with calm soothing sensible talk.

And the government will lose.