LIFE'S never the same again once you've had children. Take driving. Over the years, you come up with a variety of ways of keeping the kids amused while they're in the car and you end up totally brain-washed.

Only last weekend, my wife and I were driving into town to attend a posh dinner. Just as we were going under a bridge, a train passed overhead: "Ooh look," said my wife, pointing upwards, "a choo-ch...".

There were no kids in the car because they'd stayed at home with Auntie Hazel, yet she still felt compelled to tell me there was a choo-choo going over a bridge. I really wasn't that interested.

Mind you, I can't talk. It's not so long ago that I was driving through Wensleydale with a fellow dad and, without thinking, I was moved to point across a field and shout: "Sheep."

It becomes automatic. Until the arrival of the Harry Potter audio tapes (which are thoroughly recommended for long journeys), trains were the one thing that could distract our youngest when he was getting grizzly in the car. We even resorted to telling him to look at the train when there wasn't one there, just to confuse him and shut him up.

And sheep spark an instinctive reaction because of the "cows, horses and sheep" game. The kids have to pick which one they want and they get points every time they spot their chosen animal en route.

We once spotted 572 cows, 571 sheep and only 367 horses between Darlington and London but it all ended in tears over the 572nd cow. We were travelling at some speed, the field was in the distance and there was a dispute over whether it was a cow or a horse.

Dads everywhere are having to invent 'in the car' games and by far the best I've come across lately comes from my mate Stuart - the same dad who had the Wensleydale sheep pointed out to him.

The game is called the 'Eddies versus the Nobbies' and involves spotting Eddie Stobart wagons against Norbert Dentressangle lorries.

Apparently, on long journeys south, the Eddies tend to build up a first half lead, only for a major fightback by the Nobbies around the M25.

"We found it a useful way of teaching the kids to count," said Stuart who, needless to say, is an accountant.

I can guarantee that in years to come, when their children have long since flown the nest, Stuart and his wife will still be driving round the motorways of Britain shouting "Eddie" and "Nobby" at each other.

I also have no doubt that my wife will still be going "choo-choo" when we're old and grey, and I'll still be getting all excited about sheep in far-off fields.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

IT'S been a busy time for the Dad At Large Roadshow lately. Here's one from the Richmond Ladies Luncheon Club, told during the vote of thanks by a former teacher called Mary Hall.

Mary was deputy head at Elmfield Infants School in Newton Aycliffe 20-odd years ago. Assembly one morning was all about the wonders of nature and migration in particular.

"There's one bird which stays here for the winter," said the head teacher, Mrs Scripps. "Does anyone know which one it is?"

The hand of a four-year-old little girl shot up: "I know Miss. It's the Robin Redbreast - and I know a poem about the Robin Readbreast my dad taught me."

Delighted, Mrs Scripps invited the little girl to share her poem with her school-mates and she got to her feet:

"Little Robin Redbreast

Sat upon a thistle,

The little fellow pricked his arse,

It made the bugger whistle."