So we’re having dinner at our friends’ house. Our boys (at the time of the story) are 8 & 5.

Both boys are helping the woman of the house bring the food to the table. I’m engaged in conversation at the table (being a lazy bum) until I hear the argument (in high-pitched voices) erupt from the kitchen.

Off I go to sort it all out, happy to have the benefit of an adult observer who can give me an objective testimony of the events that have lead to the argument.

“What’s the problem?” I ask the lady in my best policeman’s voice. (Hey, at least I didn’t start with ‘allo ‘all ‘allo; what’s all this then?).

She replies that both boys want to carry the bowl of nuts to the table. I can see the fierce determination in both lads’ eyes: “I will be the Nut-carrier! I was born for this moment and none shall oppose me!”

Without thinking, I take an empty dish from the bench, tip half the nuts into it and give one dish to each boy.

The boys make cooing noises and happily continue setting the table.

Our friend regards me with newfound respect and awe: “You have the wisdom of Solomon” she says, referring to Solomon’s famous solution to 2 Mothers fighting over the same baby.

I swagger back to the dinner table, my work done, feeling understandably proud of myself.

A couple of days later, the boys are fighting at home over a Happy Meal toy (you know those irritating little McDonalds novelty doodads that fill drawers in your kids’ bedrooms?). “It’s mine!” they are both yelling.

Ah, I’ve been here before, I think to myself. Out loud, I say, “Ok then. The only answer is to cut it in half and give you both a piece.”

Gleefully, they race from the room, shouting things like “I’ll get the scissors!” “No, let’s use the saw!”

… D’Oh!