THE BOY has been asked to do ‘jobs’ around the house in return for financial assistance.

In principal he agrees. In practice, it’s much harder to extract the promised help.

He was instructed the other day to remove several shrubs from the front of the house. A pair of secateurs, a saw and heavy duty gardening gloves were located and put at his disposal.

I went to the launderette with a sofa cover and returned to discover that the 10ft conifer outside the front door had disappeared.

The gardening implements had been put back in the potting shed and Firstborn was where he is usually to be found - glued to the office chair in front of his beloved computer.

He was in a celebratory mood.

“Hah. Dad said that it would take me all week to get rid of that shrub,’’ he explained.

“Hah,’’ I replied. “He meant the giant, spiky shrub at the bottom of the drive and the straggly mock orange next to it.’’

There was a momentary pause while he absorbed this information.

“Oh God. That’ll take me a whole week.’’

Indeed it will. Which is probably why he still hasn’t started on it yet. He’s probably thinking that if he leaves it long enough there won’t be a week left of his holiday.

However, I am nothing if not persistent. An expert nagger. I’m thinking about writing a book on it.

It would be a follow-up to the baby and toddler manuals that filled our bookcase when the Offspring were small.

It’s all so easy when they’re tiny. At three months they smile; at eight months they can sit unaided; by a year they may start to walk; by two they talk.

If you’re lucky they’re out of nappies at 24 months and you’re in for a couple of years at least of what is known as the ‘terrible twos.’

Teenagers are much more tricksy creatures to deal with. What parents need is a ‘User’s Guide.’

It would have chapters on essentials such as: How to ensure your children deliver important letters from school; How to get them off Facebook and doing their homework; and How to persuade them to dig your allotment.

Mind, before I can start I need the solutions to these problems for myself.

At the beginning of the Easter holiday I discovered a sheaf of letters from school in the bottom of Secondborn’s rucksack, along with several letters from me addressed to school.

The Facebook problem is even more difficult as she is so adept at clicking the minimising button that she simply says: “I am doing my homework.’’

As for the allotment: “That’s never going to happen,’’ said Firstborn the other day when I suggested he might help prepare the potato trenches.

However, rest assured that when I work out some teen-taming strategies you will be the first to know.