The Mother and I have been playing our own version of hide and seek during the past few days.

It goes something like this. The postman rings the doorbell, The Mother answers it. "A parcel? Oh, it will be for me. It's my birthday this week," I hear her tell him.

"But not for a day or two yet," I say, grabbing the package from her hands before she can tear open the wrapping paper. "You'll have nothing to open on your birthday if you go on like this."

The Mother scowls. "Well, I suppose there'll be something from you," she says.

"And you'll be really upset if that's all there is," I tell her.

"You do this every birthday and at Christmas. Instead of waiting, you have to open your presents as soon as they arrive and then, on the Big Day, you sit there empty handed and feeling sorry for yourself."

"Where are you taking it?" The Mother asks as I leave the room, carrying her package.

"Somewhere you can't find it - it's going with the other two parcels that came yesterday. It's for your own good," I say.

Where have I heard those words before? Ah, yes, long, long ago. A small girl has been caught searching through the drawers in her mother's dressing table.

"It's no good looking in there, you won't find your presents," says her mother. "I've hidden them away and you'll get them on your birthday and not before. It's for your own good."

Everything comes full circle doesn't it?

Later that day, I discover The Mother in my bedroom, padding around with a duster and a spray can of furniture polish.

"This room looks as if it hasn't been touched in months," she says, ostentatiously flicking her duster.

I notice the door of my wardrobe is ajar and some shoes have tumbled out.

"You've been looking for your presents haven't you?" I say, trying not to smile.

"I have not," she says indignantly - almost as indignantly as that small girl all those years ago.

"Remember when you used to hide my presents?" I say to The Mother. "You always used to say that if you caught me in your bedroom one more time there wouldn't be any birthday party. Well, if I catch you in here again I'll ..."

"You'll what?" says The Mother. "Chop off my hands?"

We call a truce. I won't hide her presents and she won't search for them, if she can open them on the eve of her birthday. When that time arrives I go to retrieve her presents. Two of the packages are where I hid them but, Shock! Horror! the third has vanished.

Perhaps I put it somewhere else. I look in cupboards, drawers and under beds. Nothing.

This is very embarrassing. What should I do? Denial seems the easiest course of action.

"Here are your parcels then," I say handing The Mother the two packages.

"Weren't there three?" she says sharply.

"I think you're mistaken, these are the only two I found," I say, hoping I don't sound too shifty.

"No, there were definitely three," she says. "These two - and the one on the table by the television."

On the table is an opened package. Inside a box of Belgium chocolates, also open.

"Where did you find this?" I ask in astonishment.

"Where you hid it - and the other two, of course," she replies. "You forget, I've been playing these games of hide and seek for many more years than you."