NEW Year's resolutions come and go. In 1993 I resolved not to have any more kids after number three was born. I held out until 1997 before number four came along as a surprise package. This year I've considered my vows very carefully indeed:

1. To try to get fit - I've joined a gym, just like millions of other dads hurtling towards 40.

2. To try to get through the year without any more pets dying - three goldfish and two rabbits in rapid succession is quite enough for anyone.

3. To try to reach 2002 without a bald patch which can't be hidden by careful combing.

4. To stop being an embarrassment to the family. . .

New Year's Eve was to be spent at a 'do' in the village community centre. Mum and the four kids were there from 7.30pm to make sure of a table - Dad couldn't join them until later because he was working.

It was getting on for 11pm before I managed to get there and, within seconds, three mums had coaxed me on to the dance floor.

It was at that precise moment that the DJ decided it would be a good idea to play something called "I am the music man" which entails performing various mimes as part of the dance.

"Pia-pia-piano, piano, piano, pia-pia-piano, pia-piano," goes the first verse and you are required to play an imaginary piano. Later verses involve playing a trombone, doing a Highland jig and pretending to be an aeroplane.

I'm sure there are other verses but the embarrassment has probably blocked them from my memory.

It was all right for the mums because they were pretty drunk - but I still hadn't had a drink. I looked for an escape route during the aeroplane bit but I was surrounded.

So what's a dad to do? Sit down and he's labelled a party-pooper. Carry on and he's a bit of a pillock, but so what?

At least, that's what I thought until my eight-year-old daughter made her way across the dance floor from where she'd been sitting with her friends: "Dad, will you please stop because you're embarrassing the family," she whispered in my ear.

I made my excuses and sat down: "I'm embarrassing Hannah, apparently," I told my wife, who was sitting at a table, sipping another glass of red wine.

"It's not just Hannah - you were embarrassing me!" she replied. "I had to look the other way when you started doing that aeroplane and you don't do a Highland jig like that. I've never liked the way you dance anyway - you've got no rhythm."

"Oh," I thought, crestfallen. "That's that then - my dancing days are over." Shame really because I've always imagined myself as a bit of a John Travolta on the quiet. But never let it be said that I can't take a hint and I hereby vow that next New Year's Eve, and on all other joyous occasions, I'll be a party-pooper for the sake of the family.

I made my official declaration over Sunday lunch: "Oh don't be stupid," said my wife. "You're a dad - you're supposed to be an embarrassment."

THE THINGS THEY SAY

"Giants don't eat everything you know. For a start, they don't eat broccoli and you've got to respect them for that," our Max, aged three.

He's either picked it up from a video or he's destined to live his life on another planet.

l Have you been an embarrassment to your children? Tell me how - write to Dad At Large, Priestgate, Darlington, County Durham, DL1 1NF. Check out the Dad At Large website at

www.thisisthenortheast.co.

uk/leisure/dad.htm