IT'S not easy having a boy wizard in the house. Max, aged five, has become lethal with his magic wand ever since the name Harry Potter became an essential ingredient in family life the world over.

And Dad - as usual - bears the brunt of the responsibility for making sure the magic spells work.

For some reason, he seems to think magic is most effective when he's naked, so we have to endure the bizarre sight of him walking round the house without any clothes on, going "WHOOSH" and pointing his little wand threateningly in my direction (if you know what I mean).

I'm meant to just know what the effect of this whooshing is supposed to be. It has been known for me to be turned into a frog, only for the boy wizard to get cross and shout: "No, no, Dad, that wasn't a frog spell - it was a cat spell."

Well, how the hell am I supposed to know whether to croak or miaow?

Other times I've had to throw myself heavily against a wall and then go through my death throes on the floor after one particularly potent spell, helpfully identified by the pointed wand and the word "Expelliarmus".

Another popular piece of wizardry is not so easy to master. He points his wand, puts on his fierce face and shouts "Wingardium Leviosa" which is supposed to make me levitate. I stand on my tiptoes for all I'm worth but there are some things even dads find impossible.

But his favourite trick is making me freeze. He points his wand in my direction, whooshes so hard that anyone getting in the way is likely to get a shower, and immediately adds the word "PETRIFY". This is my signal to remain completely still in whatever position I happen to be.

There I was, having my cornflakes before work, and I both heard it and felt it: "WHOOSH - PETRIFY."

As a well-trained wizard's victim, I had to freeze with my spoon half-way to my mouth, not daring to move.

"Dad you blinked," he shouted as the milk dripped onto the table.

"You're making a mess," hissed his mum, looking up from the paper.

"I'm frozen by a spell," I explained.

"Dad, you can't talk," chastised the wizard.

I couldn't win.

Not long afterwards, I was switching on the television when it came again:

"WHOOSH - PETRIFY." I stood there, with my finger on that button, for a good two minutes before the "WHOOSH - RELEASE" order was made to let me go.

Later that day, I was brushing my teeth: "WHOOSH - PETRIFY" You might think being a dad is easy but when you've got a mouthful of Colgate sliding down your neck, it takes great discipline to keep still.

He honestly believes he has magic powers and, however hard it may be, it's part of a dad's duty to make sure nothing happens to deprive him of that belief.

Our little wizard also has an "invisibility cloak" which makes life doubly interesting. Harry Potter aficionados will know that the real Harry inherits an extremely useful cloak which makes him invisible.

Well, Max has an old Batman cape which has been transformed into his invisibility cloak (heroes move on).

He walks around the house - still naked - under his cloak and we have to say things like: "Has anyone seen Max? I haven't seen him for ages. Ooh, look at that apple floating in the air."

The petrification spell and the invisibility cloak might sound like a lot of hassle, but there's real potential here.

With the World Cup just days away, I'm planning to drape the cloak over me half an hour before the England games and, as extra insurance, I'm going to train Max to shout "WHOOSH - PETRIFY" just as we're kicking off.

That way, I really won't be able to move from the settee, will I?

THE THINGS THEY SAY

THE Dad At Large Roadshow rolled in to a meeting of New Marske Ladies Fellowship this week. Here's what the ladies had to tell me...

l Michael Storey, then aged four, had just moved up to a new level at New Marske Nursery School and was looking a little lost.

Dinner supervisor Rita Longstaff took his hand and said: "Come on son, let's find someone to play with. Who's your best friend?"

"My Daddy's my best friend," replied Michael.

l The same little boy, who was always reassuring his Grandma Anne that she wasn't fat, raced her up the stairs and beat her.

"You would have won Grandma," he said, "but your weight held you back."

l Stephanie Bonner, aged around six at the time, was in the car with her

Grandma shortly after Princess Diana's death: "Do you know what," she said, "I'm going to try extremely hard not to die."

l Joely, aged three, was in the car with her grandma, New Marske's lollipop lady, Norma Henry.

They happened to pass a lollipop man in Redcar, prompting Joely to shout:

"Look Grandma - there's a man Norma."

* The second Dad At Large book is on sale at Ottakars in Darlington and through Northern Echo offices, priced £5.