True grit is seeing how quickly your kids grow up

I peered at him, standing as tall as his 12 years would stretch, and was distracted by his height. This lad's going to be big. Bigger than me. And soon, too.

But still not quite big enough for Quentin Tarantino's gangster classic. So I put on my best Mr White puzzled scowl and asked:?"What??Why?"

"Well," he said unruffled, "I've seen the poster and they all look cool in their black and white suits."

Fair play. He's got me there. They do look pretty smart as they go to work.

But the ear-chopping, cop-killing, tune-dripping bloodfest is no cinematic catwalk for a schoolboy.

So I sent him back to his studies, where he is currently training to be an international mercenary, wiping out enemies of the Call of Duty Ghosts squad on Xbox. Not quite what I had in mind for him as a career choice, but seeing as half his classmates have already seen Reservoir Dogs, who knows when those gun skills will come in handy.

Although probably not in Stafford.

It's not all macho murder mayhem in my house though.

A couple of hours later, DIY SOS hit the front room, as Nick Knowles and a team of volunteers raced to build a new hospice for terminally-ill kids. Gulp.

To be fair, we lasted quite well and were a good half an hour into it before The Teenage Daughter cracked, dabbing her eyes occasionally, before giving way to full-on tears.

I don't know if it was the heart-rending TV tale or the sight of my baby blubbing, but I was next – reaching for the tissues and the Children in?Need phone line.

The Boy held out manfully, distracting himself with Facebook – anything to avoid facing up to the story on screen. But finally he cracked and I offered some fatherly words of comfort:?"It's OK to cry, mate. Everyone does at some point."

"I'm not crying," he mustered, "I've just got some grit in my eye."

I gave a knowing nod and left it at that.

He's growing up quickly, that one. Unlike his dad.

Part of me feels cheated that I seem to have missed out on the whole 'birds and the bees' chat.

Google has a lot to answer for.

It's a shame because I had all sorts of weird and wonderful imagery to throw at him, as well as a classic French and Saunders sketch.

I didn't think it would be awkward. Well, not for me anyway.

Just a few tips on what to expect; love, heartbreak, wrong turns, good calls, bad calls and eventual happiness, as things tend to work out OK in the end.

There's still time, of course, but as someone far wiser than me once said:?"First you give them life, then you teach them to drive."

And that's how quickly it passes. Wearing Converse trainers is seen as 'Embarrassing Dad!' these days, so God knows what they'd make of me getting into the Father Christmas costume this year.

And between Xbox missions to save the world, The Boy is already talking about his future career (rock star or waiter), what his first car will be (VW?Campervan), what stories he'll tell his children and what their names will be (anything but Keith).

Like life in general, it's all happening too fast.

So maybe it's listening to my son's hopes and dreams and looking forward to the great years ahead of him.

Or maybe it's just the prospect of being a grandad getting to me.

But I think I've got some grit in my eye.