The youngest child in our class had his fifth birthday and I thought to mark the occasion with a cake and candles. Normally the birthday child gets a smaller treat - a bar or some other goodie. We gathered round, he made a wish, blew out the candles, we sang Happy birthday and I cut the cake.

Imagine my surprise when more than a few infants declined a slice on the grounds that they didn't like "that kind" of cake. "That kind" was a carefully chosen, iced, cream sponge, which was hastily demolished by the remaining not-so-selective eaters in the room.

The moral of this tale is threefold: one, children know their likes and dislikes; two, they are able and quick and not bashful about articulating same; three, they are not particularly miffed if they miss out on a treat. I mention it in the staffroom and it sparks off a discussion on "the child of today".

Of course we can sympathize with the poor pupils who leave their modern, snug homes to slum it in our groves of academe. But another philosophical gem which emerged in our discussion was in relation to the latest buzz word - bullying. Mr A, who is one of a family of seven, concludes that any minor anti-social peccadillo that puts little Mary's nose out of joint - she being one of a family of two - brings an enraged mummy to the office door screaming that her child is being bullied.

Mr A thinks that this parental attitude is a product of the diminished family number of today's society. Mr A thinks too that if little Mary were obliged, as he was, to fight his corner for the last slice of toast at breakfast, she might be better able to defend herself in the daily battle for space in the playground.

This theory seems to say that the victim is likely to be from the family of two or less, but does it follow that the bully is from the larger, free-for-all family? I had better get back to Mr A on that one.