My miniature heroes fight evil - and each other

I confess, 'tis me, writes Claire Dunn.

For several years I have, in secret, been in charge of turning out pristine superheroes – albeit knee-high ones.

Top of the list of superheroes in the Dunn household is Superman followed closely by Spider-Man.

The capped crusader has ventured into our house – but was quickly forgotten, the suit neglected. Cool car mummy, but he can't fly nor stick to buildings.

Even the mask with the sticky up ears failed to tempt either of my little boys. Batman fell flat.

As for Superman, I'll never forget the day the eldest was handed his first shiny red and blue outfit.

He was three. I think he was four when he eventually took it off.

He loved it, especially when he discovered that Superman can fly like a bird, stop trains and battle with bad guys from another planet.

Days were spent duffing up naughty people (teddies), saving cats from trees (chairs) and rescuing mummy from doing the washing up.

He wore the suit all day long and even wanted to sleep in it. When I refused to let him, he snuck out of bed, grabbed it out of the box and tucked it safely under his pillow.

It had its plus sides, there wasn't as much washing and, to the amusement of the neighbours, only superhero suits dangled from the washing line. And, of course, he slept well. Fighting bad guys all day is tiring work, you know.

The arrival of baby boy number two brought joy to the household in many ways. But for the eldest, it meant that – after a year of fighting for justice alone – he now had a trusty sidekick.

Trouble was the little blonde and blue eyes boy didn't want to be the helper. He wanted to be the hero too.

Cue lots of Kapows!, Bams! and Whams! as they tussled over who was top dog.

So in the end, shorty became ace superhero and saviour of the world (but just the same as Superman and most definitely not better) Spider-Man.

Spidey Dunn was often found swinging on the bannister, kicking daddy in the back of the legs (always the bad guy) and saving the world from evil.

But as they grow older, flying around in a red suit or shooting cobwebs from hands is simply not enough.

And so their superheroes have changed. These days they need even better powers and, er, weapons.

So when they are not fighting the dark side as Jedi knights with lightsabers, I find myself waking up to a pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles waving various plastic weapons around my head.

This was, at the time, great news to my husband and I for the turtles are brothers who fight the bad guys side by side. One for all and all for one.

Or so we thought.

The eldest is always Leonardo and the little one is Raphael. This is where the trouble begins. You see Leonardo is big boss brother and Raphael is little boy brother. This is a definite 'no' from the little one's point of view who point blank refuses to take orders from big brother. Pow! Whack! Kapow!

Help!